Don't Ever Go
by pikachow
Summary: Sherlock can always tell somebody's story. A girl John saves proves he can't, and he takes her under his wing as his little experiment. And you shouldn't get attached to experiments. Especially not when you're Sherlock Holmes, of all people. It might just be enough to break you and the walls of isolation you built.
1. Chapter 1 - Lights

The lights from the city of London shone through the early evening October fog, and as John Watson squinted they didn't look like lights at all, just colourful circles swirling and dashing by. With his reddened hands curled like claws in the cold plunged deep into his jacket pockets, he walked on and on slowly placing one foot in front of the other, after the usual route.

He'd been sent to get the shopping, which was his usual job. The doctor himself didn't really mind but sometimes he wished he didn't have to step outside into the chilling autumn evenings on his own. Then again it was mostly his fault he had to go out at six-something to the shops, as he was too forgetful for Sherlock's liking. And Sherlock wasn't the best person for walking conversations.

John looked through the small crowd of the desperate, trying to get home in time. Not one of them looked like the kind he could talk to, and no one was either, he just had to keep his head down, get the shopping and go home. Why would a task as simple as that make him so sentimental? Maybe because it was so ordinary. Something inside of him longed for gun shots, aching feet, adrenalin rushes, thrill pumping through his veins.

And then his eyes crossed over to the bridge. It looked normal apart from an added feature; a girl standing at the edge. Red tangled hair bellowing in the wind with her face facing downwards, to the river below. John's heart began to race. _Not one of these cars speeding past has time to stop and talk to her. No one is telling her isn't the wrong thing to do. She's ready to jump and no one wants to know._

His first instinct was to cross the road which he did gingerly causing cars to come to screeching and he had to dart between them. John didn't want to alarm her, he felt as if he was approaching an injured animal that could snap at any second. The girl didn't seem to pay any attention to his arrival and he was left staring up at her for a few moments. Then she slumped onto her right leg ready to leap down below.

"Not again." John murmured under his breath. "_Not. Again._"

He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down from the ledge. She was a little startled but she didn't resist and John wondered if she didn't mind, that she wanted to be saved. He didn't know anything about her and still he lifted her down quickly and placed her back on the pavement.

There were a few seconds where neither of them said anything. John felt it was his responsibility to start conversation but he had no idea how. He untied his tongue and settled on some words to let loose.

"Look, I don't know what your story is but it's not worth jumping off a bridge over." He said, looking her straight in the eyes. "Alright?"

Now she was standing right in front of him he got a proper look. She was the same height as him and her dark red tangled hair went just to her shoulders, parted to the side. Her eyes were either a green or a hazel and they twinkled along with the London evening. She wore a black coat and from underneath a black mini skirt peered out, teamed with teal coloured tights and ankle boots. _Looks about twenty something. _Black smudges sat underneath her eyes like literal emotional bruises and John wondered what her story _really_ was.

She nodded softly, looking down as a tear rolled from her closed eyelid. "I'm sorry."

"Wha- what's your name?" He asked curiously. When she didn't respond he took a breath. "I'm a doctor, you can trust me if that's what you're worried about."

"Sorry no I just- I blanked out for a second." She almost laughed at herself for a second which was beautifully ironic as another droplet drifted down her cheek. "I'm Evanna."

"I'm John. Alright, Evanna..." John crossed his arms but tried to keep up this friendly and trusting air he was almost sure he had going on. "Why did you want to kill yourself?"

"I don't know... I want to do it alone. There's just so much inside of me, I just want it all to end I-" Evanna stopped in the middle of her sentence. "I'm sorry. I know you're a busy man, you can go now, I won't end it all tonight."

"What makes you think I have to go?"

"It just hit me, I knew I recognised you. You're John Watson. I read your blog. And Sherlock's and wow I don't deserve this I'm really not worth your time just-"

"No you are." John nodded, replacing his stance. "I couldn't let anyone jump, not again anyway. And you don't have any reason to."

"But I do."

"But you don't. There's never a reason."

"Whatever, look, I'm sorry." She stepped back a little. "Sorry for wasting your time."

"You don't honestly think I'm going to let you go home alone do you?"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know what will happen. Feelings like that don't just go, there's no on and off switch."

"What's the solution then?"

"Well... do you want to talk about it?"

Evanna sighed deeply. "I just have a lot of little problems and one big one."

"Where do you live?"

"Two tube stations away."

"On your own?"

"On my own."

"I'm scared that if I let you go now that I'll read in the paper that you died another way the next morning."

"Then you should be relieved."

"I wouldn't."

"Why do you want to help me anyway? I'm nothing special. No one would care if I went."

"I would."

"You're only saying that because you know that I was going to do it, if you didn't then you wouldn't care. No one would."

John stopped to think for a few seconds, letting the words seep into him like blood seeping through cloth. Then he pursed his lips, nodded a little, and said something.

* * *

"You didn't get the shopping." Sherlock called, as John was halfway up the stairs.

John was about to ask how he knew without even turning away from his laptop and looking at him but decided against it. He leant against the doorway. "I brought someone."

"I know, not another girlfriend I hope, they're not very good." Sherlock stopped typing and looked up. Evanna was hiding behind John slightly, like a child hides behind a balloon at a fair. Except she wasn't nearly as gleeful. "Hello Evanna."

"How did you know my name?" She asked, crossing her arms and stepping into the light that crept through the window in the hallway. "Oh wait. I think I can beat you to this one." She lifted up her wrist, which had a loose and faded friendship bracelet tied around it. "It's on the bracelet?

Sherlock nodded distantly. "Yes..." Suddenly he felt a bit awkward. His intelligence was the way he started conversation, the way he impressed people and maybe he would need to work on it a little more if someone could guess through it that easily.

"I couldn't leave her alone so she's staying the night," John explained. "if that's alright."

"You know what isn't alright, John?"

"Not getting the shopping?"

"Precisely."

John sighed. "Do you want me to go again now?"

"Only if you want."

"Fine." John turned around conclusively, before tilting his head back to look at her. "You'll be alright if I leave you with him for a bit?"

"Yeah," Evanna smiled. "I'm sure it'll be interesting." John raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't being sarcastic!"

"Okay then, I won't be long."

After he left, Evanna was left standing in the incredibly awkward and pointless place, which was half in the flat and half out. She stuck her hands in her pockets and reconsidered her situation. She was at 221B Baker Street, shared by Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. It might take a while to sink in.

"Come in." Sherlock stood up quickly, as if he was suddenly alerted by her being there. "It's annoying if you just stand there."

"Sorry." She entered and shut the door.

"How's teaching yourself bass coming along? I suspect you're finding it harder than guitar."

Evanna blinked. "How could you tell that?!"

"Your hands. Firstly there's a pressure mark on your right wrist from the neck, if it wasn't new you'd have a strap by now. There's dents in the tips of your fingers too from pressing down on the strings. The other hand has them too but they're smaller, finer, from finer strings. You're left-handed so you play a left handed guitar which you're used to as the marks aren't as deep and you play standing up, you have a strap for it, hence the lack of pressure marks. You're finding it hard because you're not used to using your right hand for playing, in fact you can't even stretch your hand out properly any more as I can see now."

"That was great."

"Thank you. You're a guitarist."

"What else am I?"

"A song writer. That's easy, I can see some manuscript paper poking out of your jacket pocket. It's handwritten so it's likely to be your own. And a singer, you should really work on warming up. Your voice is a little husky from not doing it properly."

"Wow. You really are good." She crossed her arms. "What else can you tell about me? I'd be interested to know."

"You would. I know why you're here tonight."

"Go ahead."

Sherlock smiled at the challenge. "You were going to commit suicide and John stopped you, because no matter who you were he couldn't let it happen. You were reluctant but you went with him in the end because you knew you wouldn't get out of it anyway."

"And how do you know that?"

"Timing. He wouldn't have taken forty-eight minutes in total if you weren't stubborn."

"Good, good, do you know why I was going to do it?"

"I do know. You think you're worthless, that you're a waste of space and everybody's time. Firstly you're very thin, not anorexic but close. There have been times where you've gone for days without eating when there was no one there to motivate you. You're almost back to normal now but you want to relapse. You're scared of putting on weight. You're addicted to self-injury, it makes you feel alive and it's a distraction. When you stepped into the light I saw scars all over your legs. You're moving your arms slowly too because the fabric will rub against your scars which is very irritating. You use any type of method you can, I can tell by the way you move, different parts of your body have different wounds, that's easy. Your songs aren't published because you don't think they're good. You don't think you're good at anything, I can tell that by your attitude, like you have nothing left to lose. The starving and the self-inflicted injury is all a distraction but not for the first time, it wasn't enough."

She nodded slowly. "But a distraction from what?"

"You're traumatised."

"I am. Do you know what by?"

Sherlock was silent for a few moments. He looked straight into her eyes, the hazel and green kaleidoscopes suddenly twisting like cogs turning as he stared at them. Nothing was there. She returned his gaze and despite being considerably less clever than Sherlock – who wasn't – she saw nothing was there either, in his cold blue irises. It was frozen over, cold. She shuddered and looked away.

"You don't do you?" Evanna looked at the floor. "You can't see it can you?"

"I c-can't." Sherlock stumbled. "You're not letting me see. You don't let anyone see."

She nodded again. "Exactly. I've met a lot of people, none of them could. I sort of hoped you could, but I sort of knew I'd be wrong too. Still impressive how much you could tell though."

"You read my blog. You knew I'd be the smartest so far, why didn't you think I could work it out?"

"Because you're not really that great, are you? I mean, that brain of yours, it's a talent, but it's nothing in the real world."

"What do you mean _the real world?_" He sneered as he grew frustration. "We live in the real world, this is the real world."

"I don't mean reality. There are people who are far from there but we're not them. We're just a little far off, just a little bit away."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Being cryptic. I know it's not to impress me."

"You would. No, I mean that you can't be good at one thing and at another. One day that brain won't be enough. You'll need to read someone, someone like me."

"And you're saying I won't be able to?"

"Exactly."

Sherlock frowned and took a melancholy step away, watching his feet. _She has to be wrong - doesn't she?!_ Who was she to tell him that anyway?

"Don't worry. I'm the same too. Do you think I would've gone to that bridge if any of my talents meant anything?"

Sherlock spun around quickly. "That's not fair."

"What's not fair?"

"Your game. You _are_ letting me see what it is, aren't you?"

"How would you know?"

"I would know you."

"Aren't you supposed to be able to tell right away though? When I'm lying, when I'm not?"

"You're not like that." He started pacing feeling challenged, like he had to work this out. "I know you're hiding something just not what it is. You're not letting me see, that's not good enough, _what is it_?"

"Do you really want me to-"

"-NO! That's cheating and you wouldn't tell me anyway. You have trust issues."

"Well done. Still don't know what it is though?"

"Stop talking I need to think."

"_You won't get it..."_

"FINE!" Sherlock snapped, sending a vase flying off the mantelpiece. "This isn't fair. Stop taunting me."

"I'm not! I'm just asking a question, a question which you promise to answer."

"But I can't, and you know it."

"Maybe you can."

"Let me work it out then." He swallowed, moving closer to her. "You're challenging me, I accept. I'll work it out."

"How do you intend on doing that?"

"You said one day my observance won't be enough, well I'll expand it. _You can be my experiment."_


	2. Chapter 2 - Coffee

Sherlock's fingers clasped around each button on his coat as he fastened it with an added sense of haste. Then he tied his scarf and pulled on both ends contently. His watch read exactly twenty past eleven, which meant he had ten minutes to get there and that seemed more than enough. John looked up from his newspaper at his flat mate, and with a smirk said what he'd been meaning to say all morning.

"Ready for your date?" He mocked, and Sherlock turned around swiftly.

"It's not a date."

"You're going for coffee with a girl, that's a date."

"It's not a date." Sherlock repeated with frustration. "It's an experiment."

"Does she know that?"John folded up the newspaper. "Does she know it's not a date?"

"Of course she does."

"You're still going for coffee with a girl."

"It's not recreational."

"Coffee. With a girl."

"For scientific purposes only."

"SHERLOCK HOLMES IS GOING FOR COFFEE WITH A GIRL!"

Mrs Hudson had been walking up the stairs and as the front door was open, she overheard what had just been said and instantly questioned it. "Has Sherlock got a date?"

"No." He snapped. "I'm just going out, I'll be back in an hour or so."

With that, he went out of the door and closed it behind him. He descended down the stairs and once he was outside he breathed out in slight relief, and started to walk. John smiled at Mrs Hudson.

"I think he's nervous about his date."

The streets were crowded with people but at the same time to Sherlock, they looked so incredibly dull. Sounds of high heels clicking against the pavement, ambulances in the distance and rushed phone conversations filled his ears and raced around his brain but he pushed them out of his mind as if muting them.

Out of pure boredom from the scene, he tried to deduct something from the passersby. The reason why he hated going out at this time of day, to these places was that there was never anything new. There'd be people having affairs with their bosses, people late for meetings, people who'd just had a fight with their spouse but there was never anything worth really looking into. Sherlock thought of Evanna and was a little enlightened; she seemed _very_ interesting.

Firstly Evanna seemed quite bipolar to him. She came across as slightly arrogant at point but at other times she was polite and she drew herself back from things. That gave him two ideas as to why her behaviour was so, and even more reasons as to what triggered it. What about her family? Friends? Did she even have any? Relationships? His mind was no longer hungry for something to deduct.

Finally he arrived at the cafe, where Evanna was already sitting to his surprise. He didn't expect her to be early. She wasn't the early type, was she? Maybe she was. Or she wasn't, and she was confusing him on person. Maybe it was a double bluff. No, she wasn't that clever.

She wore an oversized cardigan and dusty grey jeans, as if she was trying not to dress up to prove that she had no interest in him. Which he could've worked out by himself, but in her defence, fair play. Her legs were crossed and her arms were folded as she stared down at the table; her head rose as the door opened as if she'd been doing the same with every other time someone had entered. Her chapped lips curved into a smile as he spotted her and her eyes combusted into sparks.

Sherlock came and sat down in front of her, and took off his jacket and scarf. "Sorry." He said bluntly.

Evanna digested his apology and tried to work out what it was for but failed instantly. "About what?"

"Making you paranoid." He said quickly and she cocked her head, still confused. He leant forward. "About people seeing your scars, you're covering up a bit more."

"Oh no, I usually dress like this anyway." She shook her head.

"That backs up my second theory as to why you're pulling at your cuffs nervously." Sherlock leant back again. "To put it lightly you've got another _problem_ up your sleeve since the last time we met."

"Thanks for noticing." Evanna said quietly whilst wiping her palms on her jeans.

"And actually, your choice of clothing on that night makes a lot more sense now."

"Does it?"

"You were wearing something out of character so you weren't instantly recognised if someone you knew found your body. You liked the idea of it, finding the body face down and not being sure, having to turn you over just to check it was you and it would also tell them you were gone. And then they'd feel guilty." Sherlock crossed his arms in the same way she did. "A little twisted, I think."

"I did warn you. Want to tell me anything else?"

"Yes, you've never tried leaving by jumping before."

"That's true."

"Because you felt like you were dead already. _Alive but not living_, in your own words."

"How did you work that out?"

"I heard you talking to John the next morning."

"Oh. Of course."

"And in those last seconds before it ended, you got to feel alive for once, just before you hit the ground."

"Yeah," she said hoarsely. Her throat thickened as she nodded. "that was the idea."

Sherlock softened slightly as he saw the sparks in her eyes turn into droplets like the start of a rainstorm. John's voice was in his head disapprovingly. _Give the poor girl a break. _

"Sorry for upsetting you."

"No, honestly, it's fine I shouldn't really be-"

"-I just don't mean to open up old wounds."

Internally John's voice grew sarcasm. _Great choice of words Sherlock, really._

"It's alright." Evanna sighed.

"No it's not. I shouldn't be so insensitive."

"Why? Because if I try to kill myself again you won't have anyone to play with?"

Sherlock was silenced. Rarely, he could be nice. He could be sensitive. He could be caring. He just very rarely was that way because it was useless. It didn't get anything done quicker, it just slowed things down and made them more... human. _You machine_ he told himself. _She's telling the truth. What if you're triggering her? It's all your fault._ And suddenly, as it rarely happened, being nice seemed like the right thing to do.

Before he could apologize again and with more meaning Evanna guiltily looked at the floor. "I'm sorry. That was out of order. That was just nasty, I'm sorry." A nagging voice in the back of her head told her he wouldn't care anyway, but she couldn't make him think any less of her.

Yet again Sherlock was interrupted before his tongue could start moving by a waiter coming over and asking them what they wanted to order. Sherlock considered ordering for her but showing off definitely wasn't relevant, but he did bet with himself as to what it was and he did win. A black coffee wasn't really surprising.

"I shouldn't have asked those questions. _That_ was out of order."

"It's fine. You don't know better."

"You were right about me being bad at this whole people thing."

"At least you're getting better. That's what I'm for, right?"

"I think so. Right."

"I'm sure you can guess why I don't mind that."

"You're used to being used?"

She nodded slowly.

"Not only that, but you have quite big trust issues, correct?"

"Yep."

"Why... why are you still talking to me then?"

"Because you're Sherlock Holmes. I can instantly trust you because I know you have no intention of hurting me or spreading any of this further than it needs to be. It'll go into your head and stay there."

"How do you know that though? What if I'm lying to you about this?"

"Then I'm an idiot. I already have nothing to lose."

Sherlock smiled. "You remind me of John."

"He trusts you?"

"He trusts me."

"More on a friendship level though, I'm guessing."

"What kind of level do you trust me on then?"

"I'm not sure. I would say... no."

"What were you going to say?"

"It doesn't matter."

"A friendship level as well?"

"Maybe."

"But you think I have no interest in that? Becoming your friend?"

"Why would you?"

"You seem... fun. You challenge me."

"Thank you."

There was silence, until the coffee arrived. They silently sipped their drinks, and Evanna put down her cup, flipped her hair a little and sat up, like she'd suddenly thought of something. Which she had.

"Okay then, you like me challenging you. Can you tell... what my natural hair colour is?"

"Dark brown. That's easy, I can see your roots."

"You can? Shit." They both laughed a little. "Okay, do I ever or have I ever worn glasses?"

"Is this a trick question?"

"Can't you tell?"

He stared at her eyes and saw a very light blue circle around her left iris. "Contacts."

"Good. Do you know what I'm traumatised by yet?"

"No." He answered instantly. "But you're slowly letting me see."

"I'm not doing it on purpose."

"I know, just little hints in the way you act. I've got a few ideas." Sherlock took another sip of his coffee. "Brighton." He said, once he'd returned the cup to its original place. Evanna cocked her head like she had before when she didn't understand. "You grew up in Brighton."

"Okay, that's a hard one. Do you mind explaining to me how you got that?"

"Not at all. The second bracelet on your right wrist is a friendship bracelet you've had since you were... eleven. It has your name on it. It's not handmade, from a cheap market stall. The only place I can think of where you'd come from where they have those kinds of stalls is Brighton. And it's faded, the colours have faded, it's been dropped in water. Sea water to be exact. You and your friend got it on a day out around the Lanes and you dropped it in the sea. You still don't really like going out with friends, so they were close to you, from your childhood. Which was obviously spent there. Easy."

"Wow." Evanna was stunned. "I'll try and make it harder... how are my siblings?"

"Non-existent. Trick questions don't work with me, don't bother with them."

"Sorry."

"Not your fault. You have a personality disorder too."

"Which one?"

"I'm not sure... you take medication for it."

"How do you know that?"

"I think you need a stronger dose."

"Th... thank you? What do I say to that?"

"I'm not sure. Oh, and you wrote a song late last night."

"I might be able to beat you to this one. My hands?"

"Not a good idea to try and play that late at night, it really did hurt your fingers. And you drank lots of coffee, black coffee, to stay awake until you finished it."

"You could tell that because I was resistant to the bitterness of the coffee today?"

"It's always strong here."

"Well..." Evanna smiled, and pulled her phone out of her pocket, looking at the time. "I've enjoyed this, but I need to go."

"You didn't finish that song?"

"Nope."

"Can I ask you a question?"

She put her phone back and looked back at him softly. "Of course."

"What would you say..."

Sherlock tried to think of a good way to put it which wouldn't lead her in the wrong direction. He didn't want her to think of him as getting attached but something told him that was exactly what he was doing. John's voice in his head was really getting annoying.

"What would you say if I told you I wanted to see you again, Evanna?"

"I certainly wouldn't decline it."

"Would you agree to it?"

"I'm not sure, you'd have to ask me."

He smiled. "I think you're getting a little arrogant."

"I think you're already arrogant so maybe it's catching onto me."

"Maybe."

Outside of the cafe, things were just as they'd been left. As if inside of there it was a completely different world, where everything was so much calmer. Both atmospheres seemed dull to Sherlock but Evanna's red hair and increasingly cocky attitude brightened things up.

"I'll see you soon then." She nodded, like soldier does after reporting for duty. "I'm walking to the next tube station."

"I know."

"I know you do. So I'll see you, yeah?"

"One more question."

She sighed. "I don't think I can take much more of your mind fuckery, but sure, why not."

"What would you say to me walking you there?" He looked over at her like a child asking his mother something risky, and she burst into laughter before nodding. Sherlock didn't understand. "What's so funny? I enjoy talking to you!"

"It's just... you're more bipolar than me, and I take meds for it."

"BIPOLAR!" Sherlock hit his forehead. "I KNEW IT!"

Evanna cackled and walked backwards. "You gonna be a gentleman or what?"


	3. Chapter 3 - Bipolar and Cats

"Bipolar." Sherlock muttered under his breath as he hung up his jacket. "I should've known. Bipolar disorder."

John walked over at his friend's arrival back at their flat, hands in his pockets. "How did it go?"

"Bipolar, John!"

"... what?"

"She has bipolar disorder."

"That's... not very nice?"

"I couldn't guess it. I couldn't guess she had bipolar disorder, though there were the signs..."

"Okay." John licked his lips and nodded. He never knew how to react when Sherlock was like this apart from just going with it. "But how did it go?"

"How did what go?"

"Your date."

"I didn't have a date."

"How did it go though?"

"It wasn't a date, it was a meeting John."

"Yes, how did it go?"

"The meeting?"

"Yes!"

"Oh. It was... good. I found out a lot about her."

"Are you interested in her?"

"Interested as in I think she's an interesting person? Because she is."

"You find her interesting?"

"You could say that."

Sherlock strolled off, wandering over to the kitchen and opening the fridge calmly. John followed, shaking his head in denial.

"Oh no."

"Oh no what? John you're frustrating me today."

"You don't get to just walk off like that, it's not fair."

"Why?"

"Because she's a girl!"

"And?"

"She's a girl, and whenever I hook up with a girl you get to know what you want to, it's not fair that you can just do that thing, where you store all that knowledge in that brain of yours and you always end up scaring my girlfriends off, at least let me know how things are going!"

"Firstly," He shut the fridge door and turned around. "I have no intention of 'hooking up' with Evanna. Secondly, your girlfriends are always dull anyway and finally, there's nothing to tell."

"Why are you back so late then? You said you'd be back earlier."

"I walked her to the tube station."

"You walked her to the tube station?"

"Yes, are you going deaf John?"

"You walked her to the tube station and you have no intention of hooking up with her?"

"That's what I said."

"For Christ's sake Sherlock! You've got to be _at least_ leading her on!"

"I'm not doing anything!" He held up his hands as if John was arresting him with his accusations and attempted to walk away, sitting down on the sofa.

John crossed his arms. "You're not interested in her, but at the same time you call her interesting and walk her home and get coffee with her? How does she feel about all this?"

"She's fine with it. She likes it."

"Maybe she just likes you."

"She's just an experiment!"

"No, she's a human being with feelings! What would you do if she ended up falling for you?"

"Oh don't be so stupid John." Sherlock put his feet up. "She wouldn't do that."

"If you keep on leading her on then she might."

"Please stop talking."

"Look, all I'm saying is..." He massaged his forehead with his fingers stressfully. "Don't break her. You know what it could do to her. You can't just take a suicidal girl and prod around with her under a microscope only to leave her. Just don't hurt her."

"Why would I-"

Sherlock began to argue but John breathed out heavily, looking him straight in the eyes with an indifferent expression which said a lot more than it would if it was anybody else to anybody else. It was John's 'stop talking and just go with it, please' face, that was only used very rarely because though that was how he felt whenever Sherlock questioned anything that had an obvious answer, to anyone other than him. And this face was used when John was just so shocked and tired with his insensitive behaviour that words failed. So Sherlock slowly nodded.

"Fine. I'll try not to... break her, or whatever."

"Good." John smiled lightly and nodded. "Good. Right, so what about that case then?"

* * *

Sherlock's hand clenched into a fist and he tapped his knuckles against the forest coloured door with gold numbering. He looked at the locks; six of them, all with variation in style. He looked harder and realized only three were used, small scratches around the edge from late nights home where they couldn't be found. _Anyone who tries to break in will think they're all locked, and that way they'll always be accidently locking one unless they know the combination. Clever._ He examined the sequence. First lock was clean, second was locked, third unlocked, fourth unlocked, fifth and six were locked. _Not clever enough if a genius wants to break in_ he thought.

"Coming!" Evanna called, her voice slightly husky from lack of vocal warm ups and cigarettes.

There was a sound of a chain being undone, and then another click as she turned the handle and the dark green door swung open. She ran her fingers through her fringe. "Hi."

"Hello." Sherlock replied instantly, smiling which surprised Evanna. It was almost as if he looked happy to see her, like a normal friend would. Sherlock had almost initiated their friendship but still, he was Sherlock. He didn't just smile.

"Come in." She stepped back. "Sorry about how I look, I'm having a bit of a lazy day."

Her hair was loosely tied into a messy bun, her fringe and parts of her layers falling out. Her jeans were stonewashed and ripped, and her sweater was loosely fitted and long sleeved, the Nirvana "In Utero" artwork printed on the front. She wasn't wearing socks and he noticed small scars across her bare feet. Sherlock decided she'd woken up late and wasn't really that bothered about impressing him but she didn't want him to think of her badly. _Fair enough._

"The flat's a bit of a mess, sorry about that too. Can I take your jacket?"

Sherlock took it off and handed it to her, and they stood in the hallway. There was a spider plant by the door and the walls were lined with comic book posters. The sort of furnishing he'd expected. She led him through the first door, which was the main room. The kitchen was through a doorway on the left, it didn't have enough room for more than two people at once and it was cosily furnished, with soft wooden worktops and plants on the windowsill. The living room however, was even comfier looking.

It had a large sofa that could fit at least two people lying down across it and an arm chair, pointing towards a television which had DVDs messily stored in the cabinet underneath. Further across the living room to the right stood a grand piano with manuscript paper strewn across it and a small stool facing the smooth ivory and ebony keys. In the corner stood various amplifiers and two guitars; both left handed, and a bass. In the other corner a CD player sat on top of a rack overflowing with records. The walls were a pale green and more comic book posters hung on the walls, and some portraits that were the quirky kind of modern art. The rug on the floor in front of the television was the same pastel blue as Sherlock's shirt choice today, like it had been purposely coordinated even those it quite obviously couldn't have been. Evanna hung up his coat.

"Again, sorry about the mess. I've been meaning to tidy up the DVDs and CDs for a while but it's easier to find them this way I guess. Do you want me to show you around?"

"That would be good."

She pointed to the side of the room where the grand piano was standing. "Uh, I play piano too."

"I know."

"Of course you do, right, kitchen." She pointed towards it. "It's small but it does its job. I'm hopeless at cooking."

"I know."

"Yeah, uh..." She led him back into the hallway. She opened a door opposite the one leading to the living room. "Bathroom." She closed the door again and led him to the final door, at the end of the hall. "Aaaaand my room."

They both stepped inside and she shut the door behind them. There was a double bed with a grey spread right next to the wall and a window was above it which had matching curtains, and it seemed like perfect material to stare out of late at night. Opposite that was a massive bookcase that took up most of the wall space and more books sat on the cabinet next to the bed. In front of it, there was a small cat bed and in front of that, against the final wall there was a wardrobe. A standing mirror rested behind the door.

"Kind of boring."

"No, it's interesting." Sherlock put his hands in his pockets and looked around again. "Very interesting."

Once they were back in the living room, Sherlock spotted what he'd secretly been looking for. It hurtled towards Evanna's shins like an orange blur and sunk its claws into her skin like a lion to its prey, causing her to yelp and almost send it flying across the room. She bent down and picked up the ginger ball of fur, cradling it in her arms.

"This fluffball here is Barney." She pointed the cat towards him a little and Barney purred gleefully. "He can be a bit of a bitch. He doesn't really like people. A bit like me, really." She laughed.

"I guessed you had a pet when I first met you."

"Cat hair on my clothes?"

"No actually, I think you might have gone insane if you were all alone."

She nodded. "He keeps me company. What was so interesting then?" Evanna sat down on the sofa.

In response, Sherlock sat on the armchair. "It's a bit odd that you live alone. I knew you did, obviously, but it's just surprising."

"Cat." Evanna raised her pet up by underneath its front legs.

"Definitely no roommates."

She held it up again. "Cat."

"No friends ever come over?"

"Cat."

"And no boyfriend."

"Cat... No." Her eyes shifted awkwardly. "Not saying that my cat is my boyfriend. I... I don't have a

boyfriend..."

"Neither do I."

She laughed nervously. "So you uh, would like, to have a boyfriend? That's... that's the uh, team, you play for?"

"No no, no… I... I don't play for that…" He swallowed. "team."

"Oh. I sort of do."

"Pansexual, correct?"

"Yep."

"But no boyfriend, or girlfriend."

"Yep. I think I know what you're thinking."

"You do?"

"Yeah, you want to know why I live here. Why the flat's decent, why I've got the piano, all the books, the expensive amps."

"Parents, quite obviously."

"Jobs?"

"Lawyer and a doctor, easy. Also that's how I know you're an only child."

"I still feel bad for practically taking that money from them."

"You shouldn't have lied to them."

"How do you know about the lie?"

He stared out the window behind her thoughtfully. "You were going to get signed. You were going to be a composer, for a big movie. The money was great."

"But they picked someone better."

"They probably weren't. But you didn't get the job in the end. You couldn't stand to tell your parents you didn't so you lied. You haven't seen them since last Christmas. You're 'too caught up in work'. They thought you needed the money to get started off."

"I'm going to pay them back."

"They don't want you to."

"I kind of have to though."

"It's not like they mind." He looked at her. "Still, you being you. I wonder how you sleep at night, snapping that bond you grew back right in two, right under their noses."

"Can you just" Evanna shut her eyes. "not push the blame on me, please." She opened them again. "I don't need that guilt on me again."

Sherlock's heart began to throb violently. He felt that feeling again, his insides being twisted around, like he was a laser beam and she was a mirror. The jutting pain he'd just send through her had bounced back to him and unless one of them stepped out of the way it would just keep on sending agony back and forth between the two. She was too jaded, too tired to move from the spot.

Like her metaphorical mirror self she glimmered constantly to him but was never able to see her own surface, how much she really shined. And her eyes twinkled, his sharp laser beam self reflecting in them. When he began to wonder why he only just felt the blindingly painful effect on people in return, it struck him. He'd never met a mirror before. He'd never met anyone who shined enough to send that feeling straight back to him.

She didn't just reflect light like a mirror though. When he looked at Evanna, he didn't just see that, he saw an icy crystal like lake in the winter, he saw a clear lightbulb in a murky room, he saw a diamond amongst rocks, he saw a single star in the dark blanket night sky. And that fascinated him, stunned him, silenced him and he apologized.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's alright."

"No, it's not. I keep on doing that. You really are right about my lack of experience with people. I think I know it all, but-" He stopped. Apologizing was relevant but showing himself like that, his vulnerable side, no. That was something he could never do and never would. Not even to her. Not to John, not to anyone. He had to be bulletproof, if he let his guard down for more than a second he'd find himself shot, out of breath and out of heartbeats on the floor. "I'm sorry for upsetting you. Do you mind if I look around a bit more?"

"Not at all."

Like a child waiting for a sweet shop to open, he'd been dying to get a look at the clutter of manuscript papers. Each piece of music had been written in pencil first, then gone over in a fine black ink pen. Some of them were written half in ink, half in pencil, the ones near the bottom were bound to remain unfinished and he could sense this was something that frustrated her. Some of them had lyrics, some of them didn't. Like newspaper headings some of them had two titles. Names, and then the song title. Names belonging to people. He shifted through them all and froze at one name. It was written in a marker pen and had no other title but apart from that dreaded surname.

_Moriarty._

"Evanna," he called quietly as if he couldn't speak. "can you explain this to me?"

She took the sheet out of his hand, scanned it and looked back up at him. "It's a song."

"The name, the names, all of them, what do they mean?"

"And specifically this one?"

"Yes."

"I thought you'd be able to tell. I don't believe in God or any conspiracies or anything but I do believe everybody has a song, or a poem, or a piece of art, or just anything. Something that they are other than themselves. If I meet someone and I can't find it... then I make it myself."

"You wrote a piece about Moriarty?"

"It wasn't a pleasant meeting. I had to get it out of my system."

"You... you... met, Moriarty?"

"I... you could say I... I got in the way of one of his schemes. That's why I believed in you Sherlock, like John did, like very few others did. Nobody could've made him up."

"Not even me?"

"Not even you. I was convinced."

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Maybe. Depends on what it is."

"Have you... have you composed anything about me?"

"Yes."

"Can I look at it?"

"No."

"Oh." Sherlock was silenced, slightly offended and then paranoid as to why she wouldn't want him to see it. "Can I ask why?"

"You can and you'll get the same answer as everyone else; I rarely share personal work."

"Can I know anything about it?"

"I never thought you'd care this much."

"I don't, I'm just curious."

"I've composed two pieces about you, one before I met you and one the morning after our very first meeting. That's all I can tell you."

"On guitar or piano? Or a different instrument?"

She crossed her arms and laughed. "You really want to hear it, don't you?"

"No! I don't like your music anyway."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't. Too many..." He made a gesture with his hand. "emotions."

"What, and music isn't supposed to be emotional?"

"No, it's supposed to be passionate."

"I'm confused."

"The best musicians play and compose because they're passionate about it. All these emotions are unnecessary, you don't need them in your work. They'll be better without them."

"Thank you." She said sarcastically. "Anything else you want to criticise?"

"No that's it for today, but I have another question."

"Shoot."

"Your lower back, right hand side."

She swallowed but replaced her footing, acting careless. "What about it."

"Lift up your shirt."

"No."

"You wouldn't if you had nothing to hide."

Evanna swallowed again and then obeyed him cautiously. He saw what he thought he'd seen earlier, the writing on her skin like a bloody tattoo. _FREAK_ was cut into her skin, it had faded into a scar but the scratchy word was still there. Sherlock suddenly had a strange feeling building up inside of him, that he hadn't felt before ever. If it was any other word, he wouldn't have felt it.

Because before, he could only just squeeze a little bit of sympathy out of his rigid heart and force himself to share it. Suddenly he felt something new, _empathy._

And this new feeling spread to his finger tips, with which he softly reached out and brushed over the wound. Evanna didn't resist to his touch, unexpectedly it was warm. But it was by no means comfortable. She stepped away, pulling her sweater down past her hips.

"Sorry." He mumbled, the feeling no longer spreading across his body but resting inside of him.

"It's alright." She looked down. "I was seventeen when I did it. The bullies liked that name, it stuck for a long time. So I stuck it to myself." Evanna laughed out a tear, soaked with irony. "I'm so stupid."

"You're not stupid. I don't think you're stupid."

"But you're... you're you." Evanna stepped back again. "I'm sorry. Maybe you should go."

"I should. But Evanna."

"Yes?"

"If... if it makes you feel any better" He swallowed. "They called me a freak too, they still do."

"I... I'm sorry about that."

She sighed a little and then smiled a little, and then rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him. Sherlock's eyes widened in shock. She was hugging him. _She's hugging me_. He couldn't bring himself to pull away, tell her not to do it, because he liked it. But he didn't know whether he liked it enough to wrap his own arms around her in return. So he didn't. And he shut his eyes until she let go.

Evanna handed him back his jacket and scarf and he walked to the door. "See you soon, text me." She smirked and then said something darkly funny. "Freak."

"I will." Sherlock smiled back and returned the name. "Freak."

They both laughed. And they both felt like that moment they'd just shared could never be recreated.

Sherlock was Sherlock. It just couldn't be done.


	4. Chapter 4 - Heartstrings

Evanna's hand slid up and down the guitar neck, pressing down on the necessary strings. It rested against her scarred wrist and the pick she held in her hand dug into the tops of her fingers a little, but she wasn't that bothered. She played the melody with such care and accuracy and passion it felt as if she wasn't holding and instrument at all, something a lot more delicate. And she sang, loud enough to hear herself over the guitar but quiet enough not to let anyone else hear her. It was one of those songs she just felt the urge to play every time she listened to it.

_"...now when I caught myself, I had to stop myself, from saying something, that I should've never thought of you of you, oh you. You're pushing and pulling me down to you. But I don't know what I want... no, I don't know what I want.._."

She sighed at herself and kept playing, before starting to sing again. Evanna's heart began to race and her hands quivered like the strings beneath them but she wasn't sure why, so she just kept playing and hoping she was fine.

"_You got it, you got it. Some kind of magic. Hypnotic, hypnotic. You're leaving me breathless. I hate this, I hate this, you're not the one I believe in.._."

She stopped at a grinding halt to hear a buzzing sound coming from her bedside table. Why would anyone text her? She never got texts. It could only be one person, so she put down her guitar and went to test that theory.

Five words.

Five words that sent a range of emotions through Evanna's skull and down her spine, starting with surprise, leading to doubt and confusion and then a feeling which caused all of her nerves to shake violently, like an angry crowd rushing through her street-like veins.

**_Can I see you again? – SH_**

Her hand was clasped around her phone, her freshly painted scarlet nails ironically pointing towards the keypad. She took a deep breath and typed a response to the text.

**_Why not. Still haven't worked it out? – EN_**

Evanna pressed send and felt like she was being too arrogant, too cocky towards the man. _Oh well. Why would I care anyway._ She collapsed onto her bed, her back resting on the soft sheets and her legs sticking up in the air. Barney, to see his mistress in such a laid back state, leaped onto the bed and curled up next to her waist. His purrs vibrated through her body violently expressing his happiness towards the situation, and Evanna gently rubbed a finger under his chin and she swore she could see him smiling a little. Her phone buzzed and she opened up the text in a heartbeat.

**_Not completely. – SH_**

She smirked at his reluctancy to admit defeat. Typical Sherlock.

**_It's alright, no one can. – EN_**

Sherlock's phone made a small monotone bleep and he scanned over the message she'd just sent. He put down his violin, which he'd been holding in his other hand gently and wrote a reply. He stared up and out of the window as he pressed send.

**_No one could. – SH_**

**_What about that meeting then? I would invite you over but I did actually get round to sorting out those CDs. – EN_**

**_I'm guessing there were more records in that cabinet than you thought. – SH_**

**_If I could speak to myself back in my college days, I'd tell her that bulk buying albums won't solve her problems. – EN_**

**_Good idea. – SH_**

**_Who needs the same album seven times?! – EN_**

**_Your sixteen year old self might have. – SH_**

**_Good point. So yeah, you can't come over. – EN_**

**_Park? – SH_**

**_What about it? – EN_**

**_Speed up a little, please. – SH_**

**_Oh. Yeah, we can meet in the park. – EN_**

**_Good. I'm free for the most part of tomorrow. – SH_**

**_Me too. – EN_**

**_I know. – SH_**

**_Stalker. – EN_**

**_No, I just know these things. – SH_**

**_Because you stalk me. – EN_**

**_I observed them. Don't flatter yourself! – SH_**

**_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, genius. Guessing you'll be able to work out what time we should meet too. – EN_**

**_No, I'll leave that up to you. – SH_**

**_Fine. Four in the afternoon. – EN_**

**_Two minutes past four in your case, probably. – SH_**

**_I'll aim to get there at four. Happy? – EN_**

**_Very. – SH_**

**_That sounded odd. – EN_**

**_How old are you? – SH_**

**_Can't work it out, genius? – EN_**

**_From these messages you seem no older than thirteen. – SH_**

**_Thank you. I take pride in my youthful mental age. – EN_**

**_Was that sarcasm? I can't detect it over text. – SH_**

**_There's probably an app for that. – EN_**

**_Probably. – SH_**

**_Well. This has been great, but I've got a cat to stroke, songs to write and four copies of the Sophtware Slump to rearrange by purchase date. – EN_**

**_I look forward to seeing you tomorrow then. – SH_**

**_Me too. – EN_**

Sherlock turned the screw on the end of his violin bow, relaxing the hairs before putting it back in its case. Evanna's eyes sprung to mind, those glistening hazel circles that shined like broken glass in morning light. He longed to look at them again and didn't understand why. Maybe it was the empathy he experienced at their last meeting, turning into a drug and he was itching for his next fix of it. It was like that whenever he felt a new emotion that he hadn't had before. That might have been why he was addicted to adrenalin rushes, matters of life and death, all those things that kept him on the edge.

Or maybe it was the other thing. That he was so desperate to know Evanna. He wanted to know her story off by heart like a drunk man knows the lyrics to every song from a pub stereo. He wanted to understand why she felt the way she did, because he just couldn't.

She wasn't useless or stupid at all. He couldn't think of any other way to sum up how he felt in her company, apart from that it was a lot better than cigarettes.

How could you want to die when you're better than cigarettes? And to Sherlock Holmes as well, of all people?

Sherlock just didn't understand Evanna. But he wanted to.

And that was when it started to worry him. Not just because she was a case that he couldn't close, not because she was interesting or fun. Maybe there was another reason.

It definitely wasn't the empathy. He listed through every possible emotion he could force himself to feel, every reason he could have for attachment and nothing fitted. He didn't like not knowing himself. It was double as worse as not knowing her, and triple as worse as both of those put together was not knowing why not knowing her was so important.

There was no other label he could give to it than one thing, and that was too farfetched to even be taken into consideration. He remember his bulletproof guard, his shields formed by his lack of capacity to store any other feelings in. This was why he shouldn't have made himself even try to fit anymore in. They'd all spill out and his guards would fall. No. No more feelings, or emotions.

It was probably chemically induced, he told himself. Withdrawal symptoms from the nicotine.

Withdrawal symptoms could always make people act out of character.

* * *

Sorry this chapter's a bit short and not that well written, it's a bit of a filler. I won't have that much time to write so I'm a chapter ahead of this one already, it makes sense to write while I have the time. The next one should be up in a couple of days if I'm keeping you on the edge of your seat. Haha. I'm funny. But thank you so much to all the readers, reviewers, followers... I can't even explain how much it means to me! I really hope you guys stick around, I know this seems a bit predictable right now but it's going to be a lot more exciting, I promise. Also I'm going to add in some chapter titles, in case you're observant or something. Laters!


	5. Chapter 5 - Better Than Cigarettes

The autumn, borderline winter air was icy and cold, biting at Evanna's exposed skin which there wasn't very much of; only her neck and her head weren't covered in layers. Her hands searched for warmth in her pockets and she cursed herself for not bringing gloves. A silhouette in the distance caused her tired eyes to look up. The silhouette morphed into a figure as it got closer and then into one she recognised. Sherlock was walking towards her, his eyes matching the colour of the sky and his pale skin sticking out against his rich dark brown hair.

His thin lips curled upwards to see her, and rather than stopping once he was close enough he kept walking indicating that he should follow her. "Hello Evanna."

"Hi." She said, once she'd caught up. She felt silly running after him like that; it made her feel like she was chasing after him like a love crazed fangirl. Which would be the last thing she'd want him to think of her as. "You alright?"

"I'm alright."

Sherlock stared into the distance, and then looked back down at her. It made her feel even smaller; physically and also because he was just so... not human. And it made her feel human, so far out of reach from him. He smiled, in a friendly way but she decided he was just rubbing it in now.

"How about you?"

"I'm..." Evanna cocked her head a little and smiled back up at him, like she was swallowing what she'd just been asked. "I'm alive, yeah."

"Good." Sherlock swallowed back down her reply too. "You're alive, that's good."

"You're acting a bit funny today."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. You seem nervous. You're not being as... clever. And by that I mean being a smartarse."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be."

There was a few minutes silence, where Sherlock stared out onto the lake in thought. There was definitely only one reason he wanted to see her, wasn't there? So he should get straight to the point.

"Evanna, I've worked out what you're traumatised by." Sherlock looked from the lake down to her.

She looked up, meeting his gaze again and her heart fluttered like the leaves around their feet. "You have?"

He looked into the far distance. "When you were thirteen, you were raped and beaten by someone you trusted, a teacher of yours. You didn't tell anyone and didn't get help. You felt like you deserved it and you still do. You're scared to trust anyone let alone let anyone get close to you. You're convinced you're too much of a burden on the world." He looked down at her again. "Which I think is stupid because no one especially you is. I could understand if you meant someone of a lower IQ but..."

"And how do you know that?"

"The way you sit and stand and move around. You cross your arms and legs a lot in public and when we were alone last you curled up a little when you sat, like you didn't want to be exposed, or afraid to be touched. What could lead you to not want contact, sexual harassment doesn't seem enough to scar you the way it has and if you'd just been beaten you probably would've been more confident in telling others about it. It had to be rape, and beating as that was probably a trigger to continue with injury to yourself. You couldn't have been too young otherwise you would be over it by now or a lot more disturbed, and it doesn't seem that recent. The way you hold yourself, it's a recurring haunting, if it was more recent it would you'd probably look physically ill at the thought. It had to be someone you trusted as you as you said, you have trust issues. It wouldn't have been a family member because things would be different and if we're saying you were in your pre-teens around the time then it probably wouldn't have been a male friend, so it must've been an adult you'd see often and respected. A teacher. It can't have been in your last years of school as you managed to get all of your GSCEs, I spotted your certificate lying around in your room, however putting effort into your school work must have helped as a distraction. Second year of school is most likely, towards the end of the school year near the holidays so you had time to overthink it all and not see the teacher. Your birthday's in January so you were thirteen and a bit. Finally, you were bothered enough that it still gets to you today but too frightened to tell anyone. The way you act I don't think you thought anyone would care, that they'd agree that you deserved it. This wasn't the beginning of your troubles but it was a trigger to greater things, like your bipolar disorder which your parents think came from other things, like bullies at school which you briefly spoke about, and being an only child. You still have a bruise on your wrist that could only come from someone squeezing. As if you never wanted it to fade."

"That was..." Evanna took a deep breath in slight awe. "That was brilliant."

"Did I get it?"

"You pretty much hit the..." She bit her lip and ran a reddened hand through her fringe. "...you hit the nail, right on the head."

"I told you I always do."

"I know, but you don't really think about what it does. You hit the nail for the sake of hitting it with no interest of what direction it's pointing and what it's piercing into. But you got it right."

It took him a while to figure out what she meant, and then it hit him and his heart throbbed with that feeling again. Guilt. Why did he always end up hurting her? But then again, he had no reason to care. _Maybe I should stop caring then._

"It was after school, he dragged me round the back and..." Her voice became hoarse and she bit her lip again. "Yeah, you got it right."

"I'm sorry. I should've been more careful with telling you."

"No, I mean it was years ago... I should be over it."

"But it's not a thing you can get over. Even I know that."

"I'm sorry. I'm just stupid."

"Stop calling yourself stupid. You're not."

"I am. I finally let it sink in and it's staying inside of me. The world would be so much better off if there weren't people like me weighing it down."

"I wish you'd stop talking like that. There are worse people than you out there and even they shouldn't go."

"You're just saying that."

"I didn't think I was the kind of person who would 'just say that' but believe what you will."

Evanna was silenced as it struck her that he was probably right. Maybe he could be. A little. Well he had to be, didn't he? He knew what he was talking about. _I need to stop overthinking_ she told herself. _Just get to the point_.

"So that's it then."

"What's it?" Sherlock replied, confused about what she could mean.

"Us. I mean, your experiment's done. You have no need for me anymore."

"Right."

"Because that's all I am, right? Something to play with?"

"You're used to being used."

"Well done. I don't mind it."

"You do, you say you don't but deep down you do."

"I don't mind it."

"You feel like a broken toy, don't you?" Sherlock looked down into her hazel eyes that didn't twinkle with inspiration or excitement, they didn't even reflect pain, they were just there. Like burnt out candles. Maybe it was his responsibility to light them again after he'd snuffed them out. "You get used, you get left in the rain and you stay there until someone picks you up."

"And then they realize that I'm useless and leave me again. It's a cycle. Everyone has a circle they run in."

"But you're not useless."

"Thank you. So this is your goodbye?"

"Not really. Not hardly."

"What?"

"I like your company."

"You what?"

"I like your company, can I keep it?"

"Why... Why would you like being around _me_?"

"Because I can talk to you, and you can talk back. We're not that different. And you make me feel... things. Empathy. I've never had that before."

"Not saying I don't want to keep seeing you, but," Evanna was in a slight shock. "I think we're very different."

"How?"

"You're just so... not human. I'm so far away from you."

"You're right next to me."

"It feels like you're miles away, no, not miles away, miles above me."

"Why?"

"I'm too human, I guess. I have too many feelings and they spill out. You don't."

"What makes you think I don't have feelings?"

"Of course you have feelings... you just don't show them. You limit them, split them into sections, force them under labels. You sort of... it's like you squash them all into tiny compartments and make them stay."

"And you don't do that, you're saying?"

"My emotions are like, fuck this, I'm free and independent, don't tell me what to do."

Sherlock smirked. "I've been thinking about working on it. Maybe if I expand my capacity it'll help me avoid things getting out of hand."

"Maybe. I know they've gotten out of hand before."

"You, you... _how?_"

"I guess you were more addicted to the chemical side of self destruction."

"How do you know that?"

"I can read you too."

"So it's true then."

"What?"

"I heard it somewhere and never deleted it; the saddest and the loneliest people are the most observant because they can't stand to see other people in the same pain as them. But I'm not in pain."

"Everyone's in pain. No one's not in pain. Deep down you still feel the pain of leaving the womb and entering the world but you don't feel it as much anymore. Pain doesn't leave. You can make it fade to nearly nothing when you learn to cope with it."

"See. That was interesting."

"What was?"

"What you just said. I like it when you say things like that. It's interesting."

"That's the first time someone's ever said my rambling is interesting."

Evanna looked away trying not to blush. She couldn't have him see her like that. It shouldn't have mattered to her but it did. For a few moments, she would always think she knew what kind of a man Sherlock was. If he was even a man at all. And then he'd change into someone else. Sherlock was even more confused. How could anyone else not find her interesting? Evanna was amazing. Evanna was great. Why didn't she know that already? Was everyone else just really stupid? He thought everyone was stupid already, but _really?_ No one else saw her like he did? It was shocking.

He couldn't put words to it to describe her, he found one word but it seemed stupid. It was too bold, it had too much meaning and it could never run off his tongue easily. _Beautiful. _But Sherlock was certain he didn't really think that, it wasn't in his own eyes, it should be in everyone's. He was most certainly not that weak.

He smiled thinly. "You're welcome then. So can I?"

"Can you what?"

"Keep seeing you."

"Of course. We could meet every weekend or something and try to read each other's minds and debate about things."

"That sounds like a plan."

"You want to keep seeing me though? Honestly?"

"Yes, honestly."

"Thanks. I like seeing you too. You're a nice distraction, you're a bit of a dick sometimes but I like you."

"Thank you."

There was a silence in which the two of them looked in other directions, anywhere other than each other. But Evanna longed to look at him and he longed to look at her. It was a difficult situation.

"If we're going to see each other regularly and," Sherlock paused for thought. "you're a girl and... I mean, John said, that's practically dating."

Evanna suddenly became shocked and nervous but she had to stay calm. "Practically, yes."

"But dating is a tedious thing, isn't it?"

"Completely. Who invented it?"

"I don't know. I can't really say anything because I've never really, well, given it a try."

"Me neither, well, I have but... are you... are you asking me..."

"No! Actually, since we're practically doing it already what would you..." The words he had planned just stopped coming out of his mouth. "what would you..."

"Think of giving this thing we do a label? _That_ label?"

"Yes, but you can say no, I know it's ridiculous"

"No... it's stupid but... but why not."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I could date you."

"Just as another experiment, obviously."

"Obviously."

They smiled at each other, and then they laughed and looked away again. _Why can't I just date him. It's not like I actually like him or anything. Right? _And she kept walking by his side as if she didn't care about what they'd just arranged at all. She ran another hand nervously through her hair.

Sherlock let it sink in, he was dating Evanna now. Evanna was his girlfriend. What did people who were dating do? They did... romantic things. And that feeling he had before, the empathy, which this time had other things wrapped up in it spread throughout his body, as if he wanted to do those things with her. He watched as she ran a nerve shaken hand through her soft scarlet hair, obviously recently retouched. _No time to deduct her hair. _Hand. He reached out his own, and held onto it.

In surprise, Evanna looked up at him like a startled deer caught in the headlights. He stared back, his gaze a little softer than usual. As she didn't speak, he slowly moved her hand down from her face and by her side. He was holding her hand. Her right hand. With his own right hand.

_I can fix this_ he told himself. _Maybe if I could just..._

Sherlock decided to try and turn her around and see whether that would make it a more comfortable position. _No, now it just looks like she's dancing._ All he had to do now, was maybe just spin her back around again and then he could take her other hand and nothing would be thought of it. No, he'd actually managed to tangle her in his scarf.

"I'm sorry..." He looked down at his feet, laughing. His cheeks reddened in embarrassment of what he'd just done.

"It's alright." Evanna chuckled. "I probably would've done the same. I don't mind."

The couple looked at each other hopelessly and they breathed in and out, condensation flowing from each other's lips like the cigarette smoke they both held dearly. And then, because it seemed like the right thing to do, Sherlock leant forward a little and pressed his lips against hers.

For the first time ever, Sherlock felt incredibly happy. Like all the stupid people in the world, Anderson's snide comments, John forgetting to get the milk, the face that he could never get a case good enough to get his teeth sunken into... none of it mattered. But she did. The kiss lasted for a second or so before they parted. And then it hit him in the face, just as she hit him back by returning his kiss with a more passionate one. That maybe everyone else was stupid. Maybe everyone else couldn't see how beautiful she was.

And that was because everyone else wasn't falling for her like he was.

"Sorry." Evanna stepped back when she was done. "I thought it seemed necessary to return the favour, sorry if it took you by shock."

"No, I-I didn't mind." Sherlock stuttered.

Evanna laughed. "We should stop apologizing to each other. As part of the experiment, do you want to walk me home?"

"I wouldn't mind that."

And Sherlock didn't hold her right hand with his right hand, he held the wrist of her left hand instead, like he was sealing over the bruises there. It was an experiment. Nothing else. But it was fun. She was something interesting to prod at under a microscope. That was all. He probably wasn't even falling for her. He smirked at her, and she returned the knowing smile.

Like she was telling herself it was just an experiment too.

* * *

John was sitting on the armchair, as Mrs Hudson looked around the flat nervously. Eventually Sherlock arrived home and he opened the door slowly, like he was cautious about what he was doing. _Like he has something to hide_ John thought.

"How did it go?" asked John, looking up.

"Ooh, is this about that girl?" Mrs Hudson questioned with a sense of curiosity. "Evanna?"

"His scientific experiment." John nodded.

"Experiment? That's not a nice way to treat a girl, poor thing must feel awful with that name!"

"It's because that's all she is to him, apparently."

"No." Sherlock finally stated, his hands outstretched. "She's my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" John raised his eyebrows in shock. "When did this happen?!"

"Today." He replied slowly and cautiously like every other action he'd took.

"You, Evanna... Evanna is your girlfriend now? You're admitting to it?"

"It happened today."

"I can't... what?" He trembled, looking up at Mrs Hudson for comfort. "Sherlock has a girlfriend!"

They both turned to look at him. He replaced his footing as his arrogance returned and he took a deep breath. "We decided we were dating today."

"Are you sure you're dating her?" John processed it all again but it just didn't fit. "I mean... what's your definition of dating?"

"Does it matter?" Sherlock hissed. "Probably the same as yours." He looked at John and Mrs Hudson, who looked at each other and then back at him open mouthed. "No need to look so shocked."

"Are you _sure_ you're dating?"

"Yes! We walked together and we kissed and we..." He scratched the back of his head as his speed of flowing words slowed down rapidly. "...we...we held hands...and..." He stopped, and stood up straight like a soldier just commanded. "I'm going to play violin."

And with that Sherlock elegantly shot off, leaving John's mouth still hanging open.

* * *

Sorry if this is all too predictable. It's going to take a lot of twists and turns, hang on in there. All I'm going to say is the closer, the closer to being further. It'll all be clear soon. I'm going to try and write the next chapter as fast as I can without letting the quality drop as I think I rushed this one a little. But reviews would be fabulous.


	6. Chapter 6 - Happy New Year

The first few weeks of Sherlock and Evanna's relationship were strange ones. Particularly for John. He noticed Sherlock spending nearly all of the free time he had with her and sometimes he wondered what they were up to. He knew it couldn't be normal couple things because it was Sherlock. When he asked, Sherlock said they debated. And it wasn't surprising for John because they seemed like the type of people who had to clash before they came together.

Evanna found it even stranger at first; she didn't know how to act around him because he changed so much. It didn't stop her from liking him though, whenever she got back from being somewhere with him she'd find herself giggling like a teenager once she was alone. He was a nice distraction, a strange one. She suspected he didn't know how to act either. Sherlock just had no idea what to do in a relationship and Evanna had no idea what to do in a relationship with Sherlock Holmes.

John became curious and curiouser about Sherlock's behaviour. He was acting the same as usual just a little more... skittish. Like a startled cat he'd scurry back when questioned anything. It was the one thing John could look down on him about and it made him feel superior in his own way. And he felt sorry that Evanna had to learn how clueless he was the hard way.

Especially when he proved that he did not understand the concept of a date.

John had confronted Sherlock to say he'd been feeling a little left out. That it appeared he was addicted to Evanna and he implied that maybe he should slow down his obsession. Sherlock decided to invite him on their next date. Seeing the flaw in this plan John tried to tell him that Evanna probably wouldn't like that. So Sherlock called her to check that, and she just went with it because that seemed like the right thing to do. On the night, John nudged Evanna and they joked about not being sure whether Sherlock actually understood what a date was.

And then Evanna looked cold, and John whispered to Sherlock he should give her his jacket.

"But it's mine!" He replied in low key. "Why?"

"Because it's the right thing to do... be a gentleman."

"But it's my jacket, she should have brought her own."

"It's just a nice thing to do."

"It's a stupid thing to do."

And eventually, Sherlock decided to give her his scarf which he had forgotten how to tie. Usually he'd loop it while wearing it himself but without though he'd just dumped it around her neck and to avoid embarrassment (and fail) he wound it around and around her neck until he actually managed to tangle himself up again. John helped them out.

One thing that really confused John, was what he asked Evanna once they were back at her flat. Before he did, he asked if he could speak to her about something in private and she agreed and took him into the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

"Sorry about the mess," Evanna looked around before smoothing out her hair and running her hands through her fringe. "I'm awful with tidying."

"Well, at least it's not body parts." John smirked. "I wanted to ask you a few things."

"Uh, sure, what do you want to know?"

"What do you... what do you _want_ from Sherlock?

She pulled the sleeves of her cardigan over her hands. "I-I'm not sure really."

"I mean..." He tried to reword it in fear of putting her on the spot. "why are you dating him?"

"I guess I just find him really interesting, and I really like him and being around him so I thought why the hell not."

"You don't... not actually like him, though?"

"I do... I think I do anyway, if I'm honest I'm a bit sort of... wary. About, I mean, liking him, liking him."

"Why?"

"It's pretty obvious, isn't it?" She rolled her eyes a little and John shook his head. "He just sees me as an experiment, we agreed I was an experiment. I don't think he actually likes me."

"I think he does."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I think so. He likes seeing you anyway, what do you exactly... do?"

Evanna smiled. "Usually we debate about our opinions on the world."

"That's what Sherlock said, I thought he might have just said it."

"Yeah, he said he likes me because I say interesting things and make interesting points."

"I think that's the reason he'd like someone... I don't think he's using you." John crossed his arms. "You're not using him, are you?"

"Why would I be using him?"

"He said something about you with other people in the past... things that could be considered experimental."

"Oh. Yeah, for future references gender doesn't matter to me. If I like someone, I like them. I've dated girls too. I've never cheated on anyone in my life though, likewise I've never performed any..." She blushed a little. "... _promiscuous behaviour, _the idea that goes with the whole sexuality thing."

"Good, because if you were planning to experiment with anyone Sherlock isn't really the guy." John laughed. "I'm just a little worried about him."

"Why?"

He sighed deeply. "Did you hear anything about Irene Adler?"

"I heard a little. I think he must have cared about her."

"I wouldn't be worried about that, she's... long gone. But that got to him, he was silent for ages."

"You're scared he's going to end up like that again?"

John nodded. "I mean, not implying that you-"

"-you're a good friend John. But no. I'm incapable of heartbreaking."

"Thank you. Just don't... try not to upset him. And know that if he moves too fast, it's because he doesn't know how to move slower. And if he moves too slow he doesn't know how to move fast."

"I think it's definitely a slow moving case." Evanna chuckled. John raised an eyebrow.

"Really? I thought he'd be sort of... excitable about the whole thing."

"He's kissed me four times all together, three of which he asked for permission." They both smirked. "I think he's warming up to the idea of a relationship though."

"Me too... I think you'll be good for him."

"Thanks. You're a good friend to him."

"Thanks again. We better go back in before he starts dissecting your cat..."

"Oh God, I never thought about that."

* * *

Time moved on, life moved on and progressively over the weeks the relationship moved forward. Sherlock discovered he didn't have to ask her things, because she genuinely didn't mind. Sometimes they'd be sitting on a park bench together and he'd ask if he could put his arm around her. And then the next time he'd just put his arm around her and she wouldn't care. A little part of him wanted to keep asking her for permission to do these things, to keep insisting it was just to see what it was like, or that it seemed relevant to the time.

Christmas passed over with the agreement that they wouldn't get each other presents. John warned Sherlock that women usually expected presents anyway but Evanna didn't. She spent Christmas with her parents and they agreed that she should only tell them about their relationship if they asked; which they didn't. They spent boxing day together and shared a packet of cigarettes, discussing how people changed around this time of Christmas and eventually kissing, which Sherlock actually quite liked.

The next day Sherlock wandered up and down the flat and considered if seeing her two days in a row was odd. He decided to look at John, John was interesting and typing something quickly on a computer like he was in a hurry to finish it.

"John, what are typing?" Sherlock looked over his shoulder down onto the laptop screen, which was pulled away from him.

"It's none of your business."

"It was an email."

"An invitation."

"To who? Wait, John are you inviting people over?"

"Yes, we're having a new year's party, remember?"

"No." Sherlock bolted upright. "Why did I agree to that?"

"You agreed eventually. It'll be good to have people over, convince them we're still – well _I'm_ still down to earth."

"I don't want a party."

"Do you want me to cancel it?"

"Yes!"

"Not my problem, let me have my way for once."

"But there will be people here! I'll be outnumbered!"

"Sherlock, it's just one night."

"Why is it so important anyway? It's just another year, nothing to celebrate."

"It's just one night."

"John, I don't want lots of people over."

He turned around in his chair to face him. "Evanna's coming."

"And?" Sherlock made eye contact apathetically.

"Don't act like that's not convincing you."

"Oh shut up."

"It is. She's coming early to help me out."

"Well then... I'll go out on the night."

"Where to?" John beamed. "Evanna's?"

He took a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes before giving in. "You win."

He sat on the sofa, hands on his knees and staring straight ahead of him as he was crowded by people talking with one another, about unimportant and stupid things. The colourful clothing and expressions lit up the room into a spectrum of socialising and it made Sherlock's head thump.

"You win," He murmured again to himself as he wondered if this was a nightmare, which it couldn't have been as he had deleted those years ago. It seemed as if that fictional concept had collided with reality and he wanted to get out; badly.

Evanna was talking alongside John, who had introduced her as if she were his friend, which she was, but they were unsure how much Sherlock wanted people to know and since he was sulking and wanted no interruptions they took a lucky guess. She was maintaining conversation quite well though he could see from the other side of the room she wasn't really enjoying it, but she was putting up with it. John was smiling and being friendly and so was everyone else and Sherlock wanted to induce violence on them all.

She was always his distraction from the surrounding stupidity so he decided this couldn't be an exception, he observed her. Her dark red hair was loosely plaited to the side and her eyes shone no with inspiration, but with a fake excitement. Her pupils weren't dilated which no one else would really notice and that was the giveaway that she wasn't really happy; to everyone else Sherlock thought, she must be a good actress.

Her dress was a rich dark blue and it went to her knees, tied up at the waist. The boots she were wearing had high heels and went past her ankles, and the small parts of her legs exposed were covered by lacy black tights. Which he could very briefly see scars through. There was also smaller details; she had coordinated her bracelets with her eyeliner and her nails matched her dress. It fascinated her how much effort she put in, and that past her exterior she really did care what people thought of her. _She looks pretty,_ he thought.

Then the noise around him got louder and he couldn't hear her voice above it, and he lost hope and decided to try and focus on one voice at a time.

Leaving her to continue conversation on her own, John left Evanna to speak to Sherlock who was massaging his forehead and looking extremely agitated by now. "You alright?"

"No, John, I don't like this."

"It's nearly midnight."

"How fantastic. Will they leave after then?"

"Couple of hours."

"John, I don't like this," He grinded his teeth and looked up at him. "Make them leave."

"No, if you have a problem then _you_ leave."

"Fine!" Sherlock stood up and grabbed his coat. "Don't expect me back soon."

With that, he stormed out. John pursed his lips and wandered back into the crowd, deciding to make the most of his moping friend being away. A little part of him was taken over by paranoia but pushed away when he reminded himself that it was New Year and even if he was Sherlock, he couldn't get into _that_ much trouble.

Evanna looked through the crowd in hope of finding her boyfriend, maybe giving him a reassuring word as she hadn't really spoken to him tonight. When asked why he was sulking John told her to just leave him. It made her a little upset. Despite their differences they always seemed to get along and sometimes she thought they gave up on each other too quickly. Either way, she couldn't see him and decided to question Mrs Hudson on the matter.

"Hi Mrs Hudson," She waved stylised before returning her hand to the back of her waist. "How are you doing?"

She looked up to see it was her and smiled. "Hello Evanna! Fine thank you, and yourself?"

"Good, yeah, it's coming up to midnight quite quickly isn't it?"

"It is!"

"Yeah..." Evanna did her best to remain casual. This was the second time she'd met her and though she seemed lovely she felt like she needed to keep up an image for her. "Have you seen Sherlock, anywhere?"

"He stormed off after John and him had a little domestic, I don't think he'll be gone for long. I don't think he was really enjoying this."

"It would appear not... I might go get him, see if he's alright and try to get him back before midnight."

"That would be a good idea, you haven't got long."

"See you soon then!"

She walked out of the flat and down the stairs, the smile on her face descending as she did. Suddenly she didn't really care about the new year, or anything, like she'd left that person she was portraying herself as behind in the flat. Right now, Evanna was more concerned about her boyfriend and wanting something to inflict pain on herself with. She slowed down her steps with a feeling she didn't really have to rush. Just as she was about to step outside, she heard everybody counting down and she listened until she heard the muffled overlapping of "happy new year!" coming from different voices. Warily Evanna walked out and saw Sherlock leaning up against the fence, taking deep breaths.

"You alright?" She inquired, taking a place next to him. "I heard you and John had a little argument."

"He told me to leave if I was that bothered, so I did. I think he was sick of me but then who isn't."

"I'm not."

"What are you doing out here anyway?"

"Checking up on you. I was hoping in talking you into coming back inside."

"Why would that matter?"

"You're really tense."

"Why do you think that is?"

"You don't like arguing with John."

"It was barely an argument."

"Still. You prefer getting along with him to... not getting along with him."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know, but you should tell him that."

"There's another reason you wanted to come out to speak to me, wasn't there?" He looked across at her and she looked back, before snapping out of it.

"It ties in with the other reason, I was hoping you would be back for midnight." Evanna smirked. "I was planning to kiss you at midnight."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's kind of a thing I've always wanted to do... I mean, I've never been with someone for new year."

"It's a bit pointless really."

"I could kiss you any time I wanted, I mean, why midnight on new year's eve?"

"You tell me."

"Because... I like you, I guess. Despite this whole experiment thing, I do really like you Sherlock."

"Let's just pretend for a while that this isn't an experiment." Sherlock said slowly, standing in front of her. "And assume that we are two human beings... who actually like each other."

"Can we just stop assuming though?" Evanna shrugged. "Just stop giving everything a reason and just go with it. I know you're not that kind of guy but... maybe."

"I was going to suggest that. Assuming, that we do actually like each other."

"And we do." Evanna put her arms around his neck, shut her eyes and moved in and kissed him. "Happy new year Sherlock."

He put his arms around her waist. "Happy new year Evanna."

"I'm guessing you don't want to go back inside."

"Nope."

"You can come back to mine if you want... not like that. I mean, just to stay."

"I'd like that."

"Come on then."

They walked off, slowly turning into shadows in the dim streetlight. Sherlock smirked to himself.

"At least Anderson wasn't there."

"I am yet to meet him."

"I think you'd hate him."

"We could hate him together sometime."

* * *

Sorry it took so long and sorry this is quite shitty. It's meant to be a bit of a filler and I thought I'd make it remotely festive. I hope you had a good Christmas and New Year or whatever you celebrate, you lovely reader you. Oh and ignore the plothole where Evanna lives a "few tube stations away" and it's new year so they technically have no way to get to her place. You didn't notice it? Oh... well, reviews would be lovely, and some shit's gon' go dowwwnnn in the next chapter, me thinks.


	7. Chapter 7 - Good Influences

**_Sherlock's headed to yours, just a quick warning. –JW_**

Evanna read the message and look up and around the room, as if he'd be there already which wasn't possible. Barney purred and rubbed his face against her ankles as she quickly typed a reply.

**_Is he bored? In that case shit, thanks for the warning. – EN_**

She threw herself back on the sofa behind her until her phone buzzed with John's response.

**_I think he told you about this case didn't he? – JW_**

**_Only briefly, I sort of got the idea he wasn't up for discussing it. – EN_**

**_It's driving him insane. Don't give him any cigarettes, he really does need to stop. – JW_**

**_Doesn't he have his patches anyway? – EN_**

**_Apparently this was a job for the whole packet and now they've worn off. Just thought I'd warn you. – JW_**

**_Thanks John. I'll try my best. – EN_**

**_Might be a bit angry too. We had a bit of a fight. - JW_**

Within seconds she heard a frantic knock on her door, which she took her time to answer. Evanna had to admit sometimes it was funny winding him up. Sherlock invited himself inside and started looking around her flat, mumbling to himself.

"Where are they? Why can't you keep things tidy?"

"Nice to see you too Sherlock," Evanna rolled her eyes. "You okay?"

"No, I am not okay, tell me where they are."

"Where what are?"

He did a full turn and looked at her. "Your cigarettes, of course.

"No, Sherlock, no smoking for you. We agreed we'd both stop, if you stop, I do too."

"That's a lie you still smoke."

"Well it's recreational! I'm not hooked like you! I can stop anytime I want!"

"But you haven't."

"It helps me focus with my song writing."

"So you _are_ dependent on them, anyway where are they?"

"Nowhere, I don't have any left."

"Found them!" He yelled, and Evanna instantly looked at the stool by the piano. Sherlock smirked. "Thank you for the hint."

He strode over and lifted up the lid of the seat, to show the compartment inside where a single packet was. Evanna followed and snatched it out of his grasp, which she didn't think she was capable of doing. Sherlock tried to get it back, whining like a five year old.

"No Sherlock, you are not smoking! I promised John I wouldn't let you!"

"But Evanna, just... just one..."

"There's only one left anyway."

"Exactly, I'll have it!"

"No, mine!"

"MINE!"

"ARE YOU A BLOODY TODDLER?!"

"Please Evanna, please..." He pleaded, making puppy dog eyes that made Evanna want to ruffle his hair and punch him at the same time. "Please?"

"No, I'm your girlfriend, I have rights."

"But-"

"-no buts!"

"EVANNA!"

"RIGHT THAT'S IT WHERE'S MY LIGHTER"

"NO EVANNA THAT'S NOT FAIR"

"IT'S IN MY POCKET I AM GETTING IT OUT"

"NO STOP IT"

"I AM SMOKING IT RIGHT NOW"

"NO THAT'S NOT FAIR"

"TOO LATE" She flicked the lighter on and set alight the end of the cigarette. "TOTALLY SMOKING IT RIGHT NOW"

"I HATE YOU!" Sherlock turned away and collapsed on the sofa, landing on his front and burying his face in a cushion. He groaned loudly. "You're horrible."

"It's only fair." Evanna smiled, stubbing out the cigarette and then throwing it out the window just in case.

Sherlock sat upright, patting the space next to him. He pouted. "I need a cuddle."

"No you don't," She giggled. "you're hoping I'll smell like cigarettes."

"How could you accuse me of using you like that! Am I not allowed to be affectionate?"

"You never usually are, you're probably going to bury your face in my hair or something."

He sighed deeply. "One day I will thank you for this."

"For what?" She sat down next to him, curling up into her ball as usual.

"Keeping me sane. And stopping me smoking."

"But right now you hate me?"

"Exactly."

Evanna smirked. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. I came here to escape, you're my asylum. I don't want that to change now."

"Fair enough. Talking about things can help, though."

"Oh shut up."

Evanna blushed, and looked away. She then drew her knees further into her chest. Sherlock suddenly felt that rush of guilt he got before with her. He'd upset John, to the point he had to leave the flat so he didn't have to look at him anymore. Not because he was angry at him, just because he didn't want to apologize to him because that would be admitting he was wrong. And now he'd upset Evanna too, the one person who never really upset him.

Sherlock stammered an apology. "Sorry Evanna. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"You didn't." She replied distantly. Though she was obviously insisting nothing was wrong there obviously was, her eyes shone only with the light reflecting from the room. "It's fine."

"No, it's not fine."

"Well, it is. I'm used to it, don't worry."

"That makes it even less fine, that you're used to it. I don't mean to upset you."

"Not just from you, from everyone. I'm used to being told to shut up and it doesn't hurt me anymore."

"It does. I can tell."

"Sherlock it's fine. I would've told me to shut up too."

"That's why you're hurt, because you've just realised that."

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"That. I've always wished for someone to understand me but you take that to a new level and I'm not sure whether I like it or not."

"I'm sorry Evanna. I don't ever mean to upset you."

"It's fine."

"But it's not fine."

She sighed deeply. "So what happened with you and John?"

"He wants me to give up on this case. He says if it's been taking me this long, if I'm getting this stressed about it I won't get it."

"You're scared he's losing faith in you?"

"I'm scared of giving up again, I hate giving up on cases. It makes me look stupid."

"And you're scared he's losing faith in you."

"A little, but not as much."

"Hmm. Well, I wouldn't give up. If anyone can solve a case you can, it doesn't take a genius to work that out. Give yourself time."

"I should've solved this by now."

"You're afraid of failure?"

"Stop asking questions."

"Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry."

"Look, I think you should apologize to John."

"Why? He's the one who started it."

"It doesn't matter who started it he's obviously upset."

"I don't understand why he cares so much."

"He does care about you, Sherlock. Get used to it, people care. Sometimes no way near enough and sometimes far too much. He's probably worried sick about you, acting all stressed."

"He shouldn't be."

"Well he is."

"I'll apologize when I get back if it makes you happy."

"You should do it if it makes you happy too."

Sherlock didn't know how to reply, so he didn't. He stood up. "I'll be back in a moment."

He left the room, and Evanna buried her head in her knees again. She was terrified she was being annoying. He obviously didn't want her advice and yet she insisted on feeding it to him, all because she was scared he'd end up like her. She knew herself for being manipulative with making sure other people made what she thought were right decisions. Maybe she would end up going that far with Sherlock and that made her bury her head further. In a desperate attempt to cheer herself up so thoughts didn't get out of hand in front of him, she crept out of her seat.

A sound came from the living room, and Sherlock wandered over to see what it was. Evanna was sitting at the piano, her fingers gracefully drifting over the keys and playing a tune he didn't recognise. He smiled thinly to see her like that, so blissful in her own world as she played. He decided to join her. He liked it when she was happy.

Sitting down next to her on the stool, he watched her hands play the melody with such delicacy. Like the piano had trust in her to do the right thing. He felt a surge of envy, wishing he could play his violin with the same beauty as she played the piano now. She stopped playing, and looked over at him. She smiled, and he smiled back. It was almost as if she'd fallen out of this other world which she was playing in, back to reality and she was now equally as happy.

"You're good at piano." Sherlock beamed. "I could never get the hang of it, myself."

"It takes patience." Evanna explained, looking down at her hands.

"Something you have a lot of."

"Being with you, yes." She smirked. "Play with me?"

"I can't."

"Yes you can." She took hold of his wrist and moved his hand over to the keys. She touched him softly but he still felt it hard to trust her, to let her move him. Literally and in other ways. She lifted up two of his fingers, and told him to press down. He played the chord. "See. Just play that every other beat."

Evanna began to play the piece again and Sherlock obeyed her instruction, playing the chord every other beat and it fit together beautifully. He was shocked that his contribution made a difference. When she stopped playing, she had a smile on her face. He was shocked that his seemingly tiny contribution had made a difference, to her. It struck him that he would never understand it, how much it meant that he didn't shake his hand away when she reached out for it with her own.

Music made her happy, he thought. Maybe he could make her happy too, as unintentionally as he had made her sad.

"Thank you." She looked back over at him. "Wasn't that hard, was it?"

"It wasn't."

Evanna leant over and kissed him on the cheek. In that moment, his heartbeat started racing. So fast that if he kept up with playing that chord every other beat he would end up deafening her. He felt strangely happy and sad at the same time and that confused him.

His brain clouded back up again with thoughts that were currently irrelevant and it was a little comforting. Sherlock bolted upright and looked over at Evanna.

"Music helps me concentrate."

"Me too."

"No, you don't have any plans for today so you're coming back to the flat with me."

"Am I?"

"Yes. And you're going to bring your guitar."

* * *

John looked out of the window of 221B Baker Street tiredly, his eyes nearly drooping shut. The lack of sleep the past few nights had caused them to sink further back. _Just because Sherlock doesn't need sleep doesn't mean I don't either,_ he thought bitterly. The flat was quiet and gave him the peace he'd been craving for the past few days, but now he had it, it wasn't how he expected. His left hand was shaking and he missed Sherlock rushing around and yelling, he missed having to ground him.

He expected to see Sherlock outside, strutting down the pavement with his coat collar turned up keeping up his cool image and entering through the door beneath, maybe with Evanna trying to catch up with him behind but no such an image came to life through the window. However, a long black car pulled up outside. John stared at it. He already knew what was going on, but he didn't shift. _Let him play his power game then,_ he thought, smirking to himself.

If Mycroft had gone to the effort as usual to prove how much higher he was then John decided to take full advantage of it in hope it would lead him to frustration.

Eventually, John heard his phone ring. _Incoming call – Blocked Number. _He smiled and let it ring three times before he accepted the call.

"Hello? Who is this?" John inquired sarcastically. "You've blocked your number."

"There is a black car outside." The voice sneered.

"Really, I didn't think it was for me." He said dryly. "You know you could just drop round or something, like normal people do."

"Get in the car."

"Calm down, let me get my coat."

John took his time making his way out of the flat and to the car. He slid inside of it completely wordless and didn't bother asking any questions for the drive, and just watched everything go past. He was looking forward to insulting Mycroft and generally being sarcastic. His inquiries were always pathetic. He knew Sherlock had been ignoring him for the past few months so they probably had a lot of catching up, in this case, not to do.

Eventually they reached what appeared to be an abandoned building, it could have been a block of flats but John wasn't sure. He followed Anthea, or whatever her name was down to the basement floor where Mycroft stood alone.

"So much effort," John shook his head. "Just for me too, I'm really flattered."

Mycroft sighed and began to dictate. "I understand you know why you're here."

"Because Sherlock himself won't speak to you? And therefore you think I of all people will tell you what he won't?"

"He's not answering any calls or messages I send him."

"And he has reason to."

"I still have people watching him." He continued, tilting his head a little. "The girl."

"What girl?"

"The girl who he's with a lot, who is she?"

John wasn't sure what to answer with. One part of him knew that Sherlock would prefer he keep his mouth shut to him, but the other part said that Sherlock would want Mycroft knowing about Evanna. It would prove a point, probably increase the flames of the already burning sibling rivalry inside of him. It would piss Mycroft off and Sherlock would like that.

He licked his lips and smiled, in a I-know-something-you-don't-and-you-should-already-know-it way. "His girlfriend."

Mycroft titled his head back and cackled. "Don't be ridiculous. Who is she?"

"Her name is Evanna and she is his girlfriend."

"Sherlock wouldn't have a girlfriend, you should base your lies around the truth John."

"I'm as shocked as you are."

Mycroft's eyes widened. "You really _aren't_ joking, are you?"

"Evanna is Sherlock's girlfriend."

"That's absurd. How did that happen?"

"I'm really not sure, you know, you should really ask him yourself I'm sure he'll fill you in on everything."

"He's not answering my calls or messages, I already said."

"Sorry, then I really can't help you."

"Can _you_ tell me anything about this... Evanna, John?" Mycroft looked him right in the eyes, a little secretively.

"I think she's lovely. They make a great couple."

"Could you give me any more information on her?"

"I could."

"I'm willing to pay you any amount of money for information."

"I'm not going to tell you anything, no matter how much you pay me."

"I know there's no point in arguing with you. You're too loyal."

"Thank you."

"_Stupidly _loyal. To my brother, of all people. He'll take advantage of that."

"Thanks again."

"You'll regret this John."

"I barely regret anything."

"Wouldn't you want to ensure you never have to?"

John let his words sink in before shaking his head. "No, if it means this, then no. Don't you have to go back to being the British government?"

"I'll see you again soon."

"Don't think you will."

For the journey home, John did his best to try and not think about the encounter. Telling Mycroft things about Evanna would've been the best way to get back at Sherlock. Sometimes he felt underestimated. Underappreciated. He could've easily stopped believing in Sherlock, he could've easily given away everything to Mycroft just then and it would have been the best revenge.

Except he couldn't. And that made him wonder if it made him weaker or stronger.

He arrived back at the flat and heard the faint wailing of a violin. Sherlock had obviously returned while he was gone. The constant pausing in his playing indicated he was composing; sometimes he'd repeat what he'd just played with slight alterations. He then heard his voice which as usual sounded deep and grumbling. Was Sherlock talking to himself? He didn't think Mrs Hudson was in, he must be.

John entered the flat and saw Sherlock standing up, holding his bow in one hand and his violin in the other, a music stand with half filled manuscript paper in front of him. That he expected. What he didn't expect to see however, was Evanna sitting down in the chair next to him holding a guitar.

"Hey John," She chimed, looking up at him. Sherlock looked at him too, but he was wordless. "Alright?"

"Yeah... I was just talking about you." He decided that was the best way to get Sherlock's attention without actually getting his attention.

Evanna raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Who with?" Sherlock chipped in. John didn't know whether to reply or not, but he did in the end and pretended it was for Evanna's sake.

"Mycroft."

Sherlock looked at him coldly. "What did you tell him?"

"I only told him she was your girlfriend which he had a hard time believing, and then when he asked for more information I said you made a great couple."

"He offered you money didn't he?"

"I didn't take it."

"You told him all about her for free?"

"Why would I do that?"

Evanna decided to try and stop it from escalating by making a comment. "You should have offered to tell him "a secret" about me, made him pay you loads first and then told him that sometimes I pretend I'm Beyoncé when I'm home alone and just walk off."

"You pretend you're Beyoncé when you're home alone?" John scoffed.

"Hey, if you want to know my secrets you pay first." She smiled and nodded intelligently. "Anyway, don't you have something to tell him Sherlock?"

"What do you have to tell me, Sherlock?"

"He's pregnant." Evanna smirked. "No, Sherlock, tell him."

"Thank you for not telling Mycroft anything when you were perfectly capable of doing it John."

"You're welcome."

"And I'm sorry for not treating you very well over the past few days. You're practically the only friend I have and I should value you more, I'm sorry."

"You're... forgiven. I'm sorry too." He licked his lips, checked to see if there was anything behind him and looked back to Sherlock. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Do you have anything to do? Blogging or something? Evanna and I are busy."

"What is she even doing here in the first place?"

"She's composing with me. It helps me think, you know that."

"Oh. Okay then."

They continued to play and compose for the best part of the next hour, until Sherlock finally had a revelation.

* * *

Evanna kissed Sherlock gently before wrapping her arms around him. She let go, and stepped back before turning around.

"See you soon."

She began to walk back the way she came, in the direction of her home and back from the walk she'd just had with him. The air was cool and the breeze ran through her hair, but she tucked a loose curl behind her ear and kept walking. If it was anyone else she would be thankful for the cold, so Sherlock couldn't have seen her blushing after the kiss but obviously, it was Sherlock. He could draw a colour chart showing the different shades of pink her cheeks would turn depending on her emotions.

She picked up the pace a little as the trees around her rustled. Her hazel eyes flickered and she looked down at her feet, putting one in front of the other. She was definitely alone.

That's what she thought, anyway.


	8. Chapter 8 - Little Adventures

Sherlock had always had impracticalities. Firstly being he knew too much, and that was obvious. Leading on from that another problem was that being so clever, while everyone else was so _stupid,_ isn't half as much fun as people make it out to be for him. And then the whole sociopath thing which got in the way sometimes.

Another one he only really noticed recently was that sometimes his brain span out of control and he couldn't stop it, only hold onto the reins and drag behind it like a bewildered dog walker.

This always came up as he would always get urges. Urges for fun, his idea of fun and when he couldn't get a case or cigarettes or more of John's girlfriends to scare off he had to find something else. In the past the solution had been more destructive but now it was simply Evanna. He'd have urges to see her, just to look at her even and Sherlock wished he could be in control of that.

It had been a week since Evanna's strange meeting and it was half past five, Thursday afternoon. She picked out a soft and pristine white towel from her airing cupboard. After burying her face in it just because of the warmth she took it with her to the bathroom, hanging it on the radiator. Evanna jolted upright upon hearing a knock on the door.

"Sherlock?" She said as she opened the door. The back of her mind was embarrassed already at the possibility that it wouldn't be him, but _of course it would be him. _

"You were just about to get in the shower."

"Indeed. You need me?"

"I was bored. It can wait ten minutes or so."

"No it's fine."

"Have your shower."

Evanna sighed deeply. "It'll be awkward."

"No it won't. Why would it be awkward?"

"The whole, wet and naked body thing. I'll have one after you go."

"You want me to leave?"

"No! No... I-I... like you."

"Thought so. I'll explore your flat while you have a shower, then we can talk, does that sound like a plan?"

"Fine."

"Have your shower."

Evanna obeyed, and Sherlock walked through to the living room. She'd been a little stressed; four new CDs. She bulk bought them when she was down, he knew that, but only four... it couldn't have been much. He didn't notice anymore scars on her body and her movements weren't cautious as if she had anything to watch out for.

Evanna wasn't happy with herself though. That was obvious from the fact that she'd been wearing makeup all day though she wasn't planning on going out or meeting anyone. Her pupils were dilated when she opened the door though. Not when she actually saw him, so she must've been happy about someone knocking on her door. Maybe she was just lonely.

He heard the shower start and continued to look around her living room. The stack of manuscript paper was considerably higher and Sherlock wanted nothing more but to look at what she'd been composing. _It would be an invasion of privacy._ But his feet took him forward.

Sherlock scrolled through the sheets of music and saw nothing that really interested him. Some pieces were written in major, others in minor, there was no real pattern. He stopped when he saw his own name written in thick marker pen. It would've been so easy, so easy just to look at the notes beneath but- no. Sherlock wasn't willing to sink that low. He didn't even care that much.

Out of pure boredom and anticipation to see her he strolled back to the hallway. The bathroom door was open; obviously a forced habit, living alone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her silhouette. All detail was misted over by the steam on the glass, but her shadow was fully visible. She looked so calm, he thought.

He continued to watch her for the last part of her shower without thinking that just maybe, watching people in the shower was a little bit odd.

The shower stopped and Sherlock stood back, behind the doorway.

Evanna stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around her body, moving her hair onto one shoulder and squeezing out the excess water. Once she exited the bathroom she nearly jumped a foot in the air upon seeing Sherlock.

"Jesus Christ," she gasped. "What are you doing there?"

Sherlock stepped back a little awkwardly. "You say Jesus Christ far too much for an atheist."

"Still, what the fuck Sherlock?!"

"I... I was watching..."

"You were watching me in the shower?"

"Not like that! The condensation completely blurred up the glass, I couldn't see... anything."

"I was about to say, take me out for dinner first."

"I haven't actually."

"You haven't actually what?"

"Taken you out for dinner."

"We went to that cafe."

"That wasn't a date and it was coffee so it doesn't count."

"Hmm. I guess you haven't then."

"Get changed quickly, we'll go out straight after."

"Where?"

"Dinner."

"Oh," She chuckled. "Okay..."

"You don't want to go?"

"I do, it's just... you're an odd one Sherlock."

"Wear that black dress you have, I rather liked that one."

Within the next hour they were sitting on opposite ends of a table, at a reasonably priced and peaceful restaurant. Sherlock had guessed Evanna's order and told her about recent cases. She saw him bragging at points but she didn't point out his showing off; instead applauding his intelligence as she knew that made him happy, and he did deserve it after all.

She was also wearing the black dress as asked and the front layers of her hair were pinned back. Sherlock had been meaning to compliment her on her appearance but he didn't know how to without embarrassing himself. Noticing she'd gone a little quiet he realised he was probably talking too much. The minute neither of them broke the ice was tiring and dull and suddenly he had a strong thirst for excitement.

"Evanna?" He asked, and her eyes shot up to meet his.

"Yes?"

Sherlock's face lit up like a match being striked. "I'm bored. Fancy an adventure?"

"Depends. Will it be dangerous?"

"Potentially."

"Count me in."

"Alright. Be patient until things kick off."

He flagged down a waiter and asked for the bill. Once he'd left the table Sherlock leant in, indicating Evanna should do the same. His voice was low and she could barely hear it.

"Pretend I'm saying something romantic, that I'm about to take you home or something. Just don't act suspicious."

"Okay, why?"

"Right, now I want you to blush and pretend to look away with embarrassment. While doing so look at the man diagonally to your right."

Evanna giggled and made her face redden, doing exactly as he said. "I'm looking."

"Manager and head salesman of counterfeit goods."

Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I've been looking at him all night, it's obvious now."

He's... a criminal?"

"Not the most fun of them, but he'll do."

"How do you know? Do you have a radar or something?"

"Right, look at his hands. What about them? They're trembling. The man he's meeting with has a different suit; that design, that fitting, Westwood. Higher status. He's scared of the man because he could get him into trouble. His posture and the way he looks around says police force. He's off duty but still on guard. He has to be good at his job to get a salary like that. Why this salesman is meeting with him is still unknown and probably irrelevant. But look at his hands again. Expensive rings, none of them wedding or eternity rings. Not forged either. His symbol of status and wealth, but obviously not relevant here. This shows he's a manager, the big guy somewhere and he usually has people inferior to him. We're got ourselves the big boss right here, the main dealer."

"That was good, but how do you know about the counterfeit goods?"

"His suit and his shoes are both fake themselves. Easy."

"How is it all linked though? Wait... okay, maybe I shouldn't ask so many questions... what are we going to do?"

"You tell me."

"Just walk over there and tell the other guy who he really is?"

"That's no fun."

"I guess we could become the catalyst."

"Boooring. No, this man is armed too. You'd think just faking a few products isn't that big of a deal but he knows the consequences of if he gets caught. He's at the top of a pyramid, one of the layers is removed and he collapses. And if he falls it'll break the chain, the pyramid is very, _very_ wide."

"So he's actually pretty fucking deadly?"

"Not deadly but he'll probably do a lot to stop himself getting busted. See? Anyway we're about to look suspicious."

"What are we going to do though?"

"He's leaving soon. We're going to follow. Just go with whatever I say or do."

"Alright. Is this what you usually do though? Catch criminals on a night out?"

"Don't be silly. I never have nights out."

* * *

They stumbled through the front door almost completely breathless, hands still intertwined. Falling against the wall they also fell into more laughter.

"Oh God that was fun," Evanna panted, looking over at him. "You're a very fast runner."

He laughed. "You get used to it. Maybe next time I'll let you shoot"

"I don't think that's a very good idea" She shook her head and they both laughed even more. "Fuck though. We let him get away."

"No we didn't."

"We didn't?"

"Nope. He should expect a visit from the police tomorrow morning."

"So you knew all along? We pretty much just chased him and got into a gunfight just for the hell of it?"

"You wanted an adventure."

"_You_ wanted an adventure."

"I dragged you along for the ride. You didn't kick or scream."

"It was fun though. Can we do that more often?"

"What, spot armed men and fight them? Put ourselves in the firing line and escape?"

"It's fun. I like it."

"Me too."

He stood in front of her and put one hand around her face, smirked, and kissed her. Once their lips parted, they both smiled at each other and Sherlock decided to try something he hadn't before. He kissed her again and this time he moved into her, his pulse speeding up rapidly as he pressed his body against hers.

The kiss became more and more intense and he put his other hand around her waist. Evanna wrapped her arms around his neck and they kissed for a while, until they both fell back next to each other just as breathless as they were before.

"What was that for?" Evanna asked, still smiling.

"I... I wanted to experiment. See if I liked it."

"And did you?"

"...yes."

"I should be going, last train's leaving in half an hour-" She turned to walk out the door.

He grabbed her hand and looked at her with desperation. "No- please stay."

"I have to get back soon otherwise I never will."

"You can stay the night here – I... I don't want to say goodnight yet."

"Sherlock, I-"

"-I know, you need to be somewhere tomorrow. It's alright. Run along."

"Now I feel guilty."

He kissed her again with the same force as before and they lingered after, their foreheads leant together. "Guilty?"

"I don't want to leave you now."

"But you _must_."

Evanna laughed. "Don't tell me what to do." Sherlock kissed her again quickly and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Finally she stepped back. "Right, now I really do need to go. Thanks for a... a great night."

"You too. We should do it again sometime."

"We should. See you around, freak."

"See you."

With that she watched him walk up the stairs before finally leaving herself. Once Sherlock was back at the flat, he realised John had been waiting for him. For some reason he couldn't grasp he couldn't stop smiling and John was very suspicious.

The smile on Sherlock's face dissolved when it struck him that the moment was over and far too quickly; one part of him wanted to run after her and call down the street all the things he should've said but couldn't. Then again, he probably never could.

"You're back late." John licked his lips. "You were with Evanna?"

"Yes?"

"Date?"

"...yes."

"What were you smirking about?"

"Smirking? Oh... nothing."

"You're out of breath... what were you doing exactly?"

Sherlock smiled secretively before putting his hands in his pockets and fading into a silhouette, leaving John as usual in the same darkness he walked into. "Nothing."

John opened his mouth to ask something but decided against it. It was a simple question but an odd one; _did you get laid?_ And that made John think about things he didn't want to think about so he shook that question away and decided that was a private matter. _A private matter that has absolutely nothing to do with me and I should never think about._

* * *

The flat was almost completely silent. From the slightly open bedroom window the cool January breeze blew the curtains, causing them to dance ever so slightly, the fabric curling and retracting almost like smoke. Faintly sounds from the outside world could be heard; an ambulance, a baby crying, the hustle of the crowds in the street.

Over the heavy sound of isolation, the phone started ringing.

Evanna instantly jolted upright. It couldn't be Sherlock; he already had his own ringtone by now. She listed through the very short list of people it could be and by process of elimination she reached the final name. The name she didn't want it to be but it had to. Third call this week.

She bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood and went to pick up the phone.

* * *

**I am so sorry. Literally the worst writer ever, what do I do, I don't update for ages and rather than writing a really good and thrilling chapter to remind you why you held on and why you're reading what do I do? I write this piece of shit. I did write the whole of their little adventure but I cut it out it was pretty pointless and dragged out too much. My inner perfectionist came back when I was rewriting it too. For the sake of my mental health I skipped it. Hope you're okay with that, maybe you can fantasise about the kind of shit they'd get themselves into together. Then I was like "fuck I'm going to lose readers, lose all the readers... ahhh let's add a cliffhanger! Bitches love cliffhangers!" So sorry about this. I'm a little high right now I asked my parents to get me chai latte and they got me this hazelnut flavoured stuff. It burnt my tongue like Satan but it's good writing juice I want to recommend it but I don't have a clue what it is. I never usually know what I'm drinking. That makes me sound like some crazy party animal who gets drunk but I'm actually referring to which cup of coffee I've drank; the sixth or the seventh. I think I have a problem. I'm sorry for forcing you to read this. Reviews make me so happy, I'd really like one, I'd probably lick my screen with excitement. I'm going to lick my screen anyway. I spilt some of this latte stuff on it, waste not want not. I'm so sorry for this okay sorry I'll update soon bye**


	9. Chapter 9 - Events

**MILD TRIGGER WARNING: I DON'T THINK MY WRITING IS GOOD ENOUGH TO TRIGGER ANYONE BUT HEY BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY**

* * *

Nothing could describe the feeling Evanna had when she put down the phone, her hands trembling. The inside of her head was sweating and anyone watching would think she'd seen a ghost. It was a feeling of fear and humiliation. She felt stupid, incredibly stupid. She wasn't sure what to do with herself and she didn't like it.

Biting her lip she tried not to cry, she couldn't be that weak. Evanna felt like she needed to punish herself. She wanted to see her own blood and maybe that would be some comfort. The voice in the back of her head that belonged to numerous people; Sherlock, her therapist, her friends just didn't exist. She didn't care, she needed a distraction.

Evanna started to search through her flat for something. She looked in her bedside drawer, but obviously Sherlock had confiscated her blades. _Dammit, Sherlock. He cares too much. _She rushed to the bathroom.

At her own reflection she lost it and burst into tears, and she covered her face with her hands. She took a deep breath. She knew she needed her medication but somehow she didn't want it. Evanna started to look for razors, the kind she used for shaving. They managed to slit open the end of her finger but it wasn't enough.

Though her heartbeat started to race as she walked to the kitchen she knew she what she wanted, even if she knew it was wrong at the same time.

Shaking her head and sobbing, Evanna grabbed the small knife. She held it up to the palm of her hand and dug down with it, dragging it down and across. A thick line of blood showed the path the blade had just taken.

The pain made her bite her lip and she remembered all the reasons why she shouldn't have just done that. She stood there, face resting in her good hand for a minute or so and she cried, until she heard a knock on the door.

Evanna grabbed a tissue and cleaned up the black smudges under her eyes quickly, before trying to dab away the blood. She couldn't stop it bleeding but it would do. She put the knife in the dishwasher, erasing all evidence before answering the door.

John stood there. He looked Evanna up and down.

"Are you okay?" He asked, licking his lips.

"Fine." Evanna replied quickly. "W-What are you doing here?"

"Checking up on you for Sherlock. He's really tied up but he had a bad feeling, he was getting stressed out so I volunteered to come over."

"That was sweet of him." She ran a hand through her hair; accidently the bad one. John caught up on it straight away and gave her a concerned look.

"Sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, why?"

"What happened to your hand?"

"Nothing." She held up her clean hand. "Thanks for coming over."

"No, the other one."

"Oh, it's just a scratch."

"It looked really bad."

"It's fine."

"Prove it?"

She sighed and held out the palm of her hand. John winced a little, before she returned it to her side and blushed. "See? Fine."

"That wasn't fine, that looked really nasty what did you do?"

"I fell." She nodded casually and smiled without showing any teeth like she knew he wouldn't believe her; he didn't and he raised his eyebrows. "Into a mirror."

"You need to dress that."

"It's fine honestly I don't have any knowledge on dressing stuff anyway, why would I, I mean-"

"I do."

"John. Please." She looked at him with a look of desperation, and like she was about to cry again. "I'll rinse it when you leave, okay?"

"Please let me help you."

"I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself."

"You just said you weren't! And I'm a doctor."

"And I'm fine, don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Sherlock said you do this."

"What?"

"Push help away. When there's something wrong."

"There's nothing wrong."

"Then why are you pushing help away?"

Evanna took a deep sigh, and seconds later found herself sitting crossed legged, in front of John on the sofa as he wrapped a bandage around her hand. John tied up the end and pushed the hand back to her, smiling.

"See? Wasn't that hard was it?"

"I guess. Thanks."

She looked down at the bandage and felt the urge to unravel it, but instead she just examined it and did her best not to make eye contact. A voice in the back of her head wanted John to leave now before any conversation was made.

"I'm not going to bother pretending I don't know how you did that."

Evanna looked up at John, with the deer caught in the headlights look. "Please don't tell Sherlock."

"I think I need to."

"He already knows some things. I feel like I'm letting him down, that's one thing, him knowing is another. It'll become a circle."

"He has the right to know. You're his girlfriend and he cares about you a lot, you know. More than he's ever cared about anyone. He would want to know."

"Too much, I think. John I'm trusting you with this. I don't want him worrying."

"You don't want him worrying about you."

"John, we're in the same boat. Can you just..." Evanna shut her eyes for a moment thinking and continued. "try to understand that this is the best for him, just this once. It's better that he doesn't know."

"I just think he might be able to help you too."

"It's not something he can help with. He'll want to know why I did it, and it's something I can't tell him, I can't tell you either."

"If you promise me you won't do it again, and if you can actually find a way to keep it from him then I'll keep my mouth shut. Alright?"

"Thank you."

"Please don't do it again."

"I'll try."

"And if you can't always turn to Sherlock you can turn to me, I want you to know that."

"Thanks John. I like you, you're cool."

"You're welcome." John looked away and then back. "He adores you, you know."

Evanna opened her mouth a little before replying. "You... you think?"

"He absolutely adores you. He talks about you a lot, Evanna this, Evanna that... he thinks you're fascinating. As this rate we'll all end up falling in love with you," They both chuckled. "But I didn't think he was capable of that. You must be special. I call you his little drug. He's hooked."

"I think he's just really lonely."

"Maybe. But he's never been like this before."

She looked away and the voice in her head telling him to leave was challenged by another voice that wanted him to stay. Suddenly she didn't really want to be alone, it seemed scarier.

"Sherlock told me you had bipolar." John turned his head. "Sorry if that's too personal, I-"

"-no, it's fine."

"Is that why you...?"

"Partially."

"Do you have medication... therapy, anything?"

"Both."

"Shouldn't you call your therapist or something then?"

"I guess. I usually avoid it at all costs."

"I know the feeling."

"Post-traumatic stress, wasn't it?" She met his eyes and he looked a little startled. "Your limp, your hand, it was for that wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

"It's fine... I'm sort of over it."

"Good... good for you." Evanna smiled thinly.

"Do you want me to leave so you can call her? Or him... or take your medication, or whatever you need to do."

"If I don't sound rude," She lied. Being alone seemed scary but she couldn't admit it.

"You don't, it's fine." John stood up slowly and looked down at her, and she couldn't help but feel inferior. "Sure you'll be okay on your own?"

"Yeah," Evanna lied again. "I'll be fine. Thanks."

When she got up onto her feet and joined him, she felt like just saying thanks wasn't enough and decided to hug him. It was a little awkward but it was warm and comforting for both of them. It felt like enough to last her for the rest of the day. John left, promising again on request not to speak to Sherlock about it.

The first hour Evanna spent alone she unwound and rewound her bandage five times and played guitar aimlessly. There was no point in even trying to compose anything; her hand couldn't move fast enough to come up with anything decent sounding and besides, her mind was far too clouded. She took her medication and planned to tell her therapist at her next appointment; too much apathy to call her. She then forced Barney to cuddle with her on the sofa whilst she watched Dexter. Anything to distract her from the previous events of the day.

She partially longed for her usual distraction, which was Sherlock but he didn't have time for her. The effort he made astounded her though. Evanna couldn't understand why she cared so much. After two more episodes, she decided to text him.

**_Hey, I know you're tied up right now so don't get worried or anything, and I really don't mean to sound so bloody clingy but I'd really like to see you soon, so let me know when you have some free time. Even just ten minutes. I just kind of miss you! EN._**

_There_, she thought. _I hope that doesn't sound suspicious._

Another episode and the shadow of the day was pulling over the sky outside, a dark sheet with little holes to let the light shine through. She considered making dinner. She also considered not making dinner. Finally her phone buzzed and she pencil rolled across the sofa to get to it at a speed Usain Bolt would admire.

**_I'm free now for half an hour or so, then I must get to the morgue. See you at the park in ten. SH._**

Evanna cursed aloud. Obviously he'd assume she could get there for ten minutes. She rushed to the mirror; makeup, okay, hair... _meh._ She ran to her room and pulled out her beanie hat, over the tangle of red. She put on her coat, her tattered Converse and some fingerless gloves. Evanna thanked the lord (who she didn't actually believe in) that they covered up her hand perfectly; the bandage didn't even stick out.

Keys in one pocket, phone on vibrate in the other she began to walk. It was already dark and through that she could see orbs of light; streetlights lit the way. The park in the evening was different. The nice kind of different.

Sherlock already stood there by the usual bench. It was isolated apart from the distant sound of a few "hooded youths" on the outskirts of the park. He smiled to see her.

"Hey," Evanna waved awkwardly. "It was a bit of a rush to get here."

"Sorry." He held his hand against her cheek and she blushed a little. "You're freezing."

"I'm fine, I'm used to the cold. I think I was a polar bear in a past life."

"I like your hat."

"Thank you..." She spoke slowly, unsure as to why he'd complimented her. "What do you want?"

"Nothing! You just look... cute." Sherlock smiled again. "You look pretty tonight."

"And I don't always?"

"You just look especially nice today. I've missed seeing you."

"I've missed seeing you too. How's the case going?"

"I really think we're onto something. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yes. It's just... I always considered myself married to my work. Until you came along and that was a whole different matter, but now I understand why I could only have one or the other before. I don't want to end up hardly ever seeing you because of it."

"Sherlock... are you breaking up-"

"-no! Quite the opposite."

"Sherlock I'm flattered but I'm really not worth it, I-"

"-not that either. I realized I don't have to choose."

"You don't?"

"Nope." He grinned and started to walk quickly. "That's why we're going back to your flat now."

"We are?"

"Yep. You're going to pack a bag and then you're coming with me."

* * *

**I'll update again soonish. Evanna's gonna meet everyone! It'll be exciting! I promise! Reviews make me super duper happy.**


	10. Chapter 10 - Doctor What?

"Do I not have a say in this?" Evanna laughed, trailing behind.

"You'll love it. I've wanted to take you on a case for a while now."

"I'm almost excited now."

"You should be. I am too to be honest." Sherlock turned around and grinned. "And I can't wait to show you off to everyone."

"Oh fuck no!" She suddenly became worried. "Will I have time to fix my hair?"

"You look fine."

"No I don't."

"Keep the hat on if you're worried."

"I can't keep the hat on, I look like an eleven year old going through a skater phase."

"You look cute."

"Stop it. Shit, what do I wear? What do I even do?"

"Just be yourself."

"That's a stupid idea, no one will like that."

"I like it."

She sighed deeply and with an apathy to argue, followed him back to her flat. Evanna unlocked the door and Sherlock darted inside. He rushed to the bedroom and pulled out a backpack from her wardrobe, indicating she should start packing.

"What do I need?" She ran her hand through her fringe. "I don't have any, uh, weaponry..."

"I wasn't expecting you to. No, you're staying the night so take everything you'll need. And clothes for tomorrow."

"So I'm staying overnight?"

"Yes, that's what I said. You can sleep in my bed."

"Um, okay. Should I get changed? I feel a bit scruffy."

"You should wear..."

He opened up her wardrobe and picked out a thick jumper, which was a deep royal blue. Also to her advantage it was at least two sizes too big and she planned to pull the sleeves over her hands.

"...this." He threw it over to her and she caught it, in disbelief that she'd actually caught it; it brought back strange memories of playing netball at college. "With your combat boots. And put your hair in a fishtail plait. I like it when you do that."

She laughed. "You can tell who wears the trousers in this relationship."

"Trousers... ah, yes, keep those ones on. Those jeans. They look nice on you."

"Thanks? I feel like I'm going to be judged."

"You probably will."

"Thanks for the reassurance."

"You're welcome. Wait... sarcasm?"

"Sarcasm. Oh my God, what do I do with my makeup? My perfume? Should I brush my teeth or something?"

"You're overreacting. You look fine. You smell nice too, you always do."

"Sherlock this is getting a little creepy."

"Get changed and I'll pack your bag."

"Fine..."

As usual she obeyed, and in under ten minutes they were both sitting in the back of a cab going to Baker Street. Evanna watched the city roll past and her heart started thudding with excitement. She was nervous, she didn't really know what was going on but something made her trust Sherlock. He was excited too, Evanna knew he got off on all of this. And if he was happy so was she. And vice versa.

They ran inside and up to Sherlock's room, where they dumped the bag. John was apparently waiting for them at St. Barts. They climbed back into the cab and got there, and Evanna tried her best to keep up with Sherlock as he rushed around. She didn't want to seem like she was trailing after him like some fangirl, or that she was being annoying. She already felt like she was agitating him.

He swung the door open and they entered a lab. John was there waiting, and a woman Evanna identified as Molly Hooper was tidying something up. Her hair was tied back and her lab coat looked clean. John looked at Sherlock.

"You took your time."

"Sorry," Evanna bit her lip. "That might have been my fault."

"It's fine." He smiled and looked at Sherlock. "So she's with us then?"

"Yes, I need to discuss something though." Sherlock looked at Evanna. "Stay here and don't touch or break anything. We won't be long." He kissed her gently on the cheek. "And be nice to Molly, she's on her period."

Molly looked up. "How... how did you-"

The door shut. She pursed her lips nervously and Evanna tried to hide her smirk.

"It's a bit frustrating when he does that."

"Yeah... you get used to it."

"I know." Evanna looked down. _Holy shit what if this turns into some war about who knows him better. What do I do. How do I even talk to her. _"It's almost supernatural isn't it? The way he is. He never fails to surprise me."

"He does that."

"Yeah... I like your hair."

"...what?"

"I like it. It's a nice colour, it's looks nice. The way you've done it."

"Really?" She blushed and nervously ran her hands through her ponytail. "It's... I just tied it back."

"You're lucky you can do that. I've got layers poking out everywhere." She smoothed out her plait. "My hair's a pain. I wish I had hair like yours."

_This is the woman who's very likely to have had a teenage girl-esque crush on my boyfriend for as long as she's known him and I'm talking to her about hair. Okay._

"I like your hair. It's a nice colour."

"It's annoying to touch up. Believe it or not I actually had really light lilac hair as a teenager. That got very frustrating." Evanna sighed and looked at Molly honestly. "Here we are discussing hair. I don't really think we have a reason for it to be this awkward."

"We..." She stumbled on her words and looked up nervously. "we don't really."

"You seem really lovely, and you're his friend."

"Thank you... I-I don't think he considers me as a friend."

"I think he does. Still. We should get along. We already have one thing in common."

Once Molly decoded what she'd just said they both burst out laughing. It wasn't even an awkward laugh following a quite bad and maybe too personal joke, it was a relieving one. Silence fell as the both smiled thinly and looked at the floor.

"I saw your blog." Evanna confessed and her eyes shot up to meet her's.

"Oh... I-I-"

"I liked the cats." She grinned. "I thought you seemed really nice. I have a cat too, you know."

"Nice."

"Big ginger fluffball. He's called Barney. Toby... Toby looked nice."

"Thanks."

"You have good taste in cats."

Molly giggled nervously. "Thank you." She remember the posts on her blog and their content, and who Evanna was to Sherlock and that made her knees almost give in. "Look, the things about him-"

"-it's fine. Really. Fine."

"No, I mean, I really am... I'm past that now. I have to be. I'm happy for you two, and I don't mean that how people usually do. I really am."

"Thanks."

"I can always tell when you text him. He gets all smiley and refuses to speak about it... it's good for him. You're good for him."

"Thanks. I'm glad... you seem like a good person. You're the kind of girl I wish I could be like. You're really strong and independent, you get... or you _got_ all different around him though. I understand it. I used to have a friend like you, she'd been through a lot and some said she was a pushover but she really wasn't. She was selective about what she did, she was strong and she was still lovely."

"You're like that too though. I mean... you seem like it. From my assumptions... not that I have a prejudice, or-"

"-it's fine. No, I mean... I'm not like that at all."

"From what I can see about you you're nice, you're a bit awkward but the right amount so you're not overly cocky and you know the right things to say. And you've been through a lot too... I can tell."

"You're one of those people who can tell things. The other kind of genius."

"I'm not a genius of any kind."

"But you are. You observe things, you see things in people others can't. You see the hidden parts in people. You know a fake smile."

"But I- how do you..."

"Takes one to know one." She grinned and held out her hand. "High five for both being able to deduce the man who deduces everyone else?"

Molly grinned and quickly slapped her palm against hers. They laughed at each other until the door swung open and Sherlock stepped inside.

"Ah, speak of the devil." Evanna chimed.

Sherlock looked backwards and forwards between them. "You've been talking."

"Yep," Molly nodded. "We got along well."

"That's odd. Evanna, you're coming with me."

"Oh okay. This man claims I'm coming with him, I'll see you around then Molly."

"It was very nice meeting you."

"You too!"

Sherlock took her arm and pulled her out with him. John was nowhere to be seen and the hospital was almost eerie now.

"I'm surprised you got along." He confessed. "I was worried you'd secretly hate her, you're always so good at hiding those things."

"Oh no, I like her. She's cute." Evanna stuck her hands in her pockets. He looked at her, furrowing his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes. "Oh come on! Not like that!"

"Hmm."

"Can't you tell all of this anyway?"

"Not with you. You have your ways."

She sighed deeply. "Just because gender's irrelevant to me that doesn't make me bloody Captain Jack Harkness you know."

"...who?"

"You know, Doctor Who?"

"Doctor... what?"

"Oh right, high functioning sociopath... Molly is lovely but no, I did not hit on her and I do not plan to. Why would I?" She started to enjoy being in power, being the mysterious and misleading one. "I have you, the sex on legs genius who actually understands me. Have a bit of trust, hun."

"Sorry. I was just checking."

"But actually, I wasn't thinking of her like that until you suggested it..." She teased. "Yeah, I mean, if she wasn't straight and I didn't have you, I would."

"You would what?" Sherlock cocked his head in confusion and then it clicked. "Oh... you are joking right?"

"Yes! Oh wow. This is fun, I didn't know I was so good at this. I should do this more often."

"Don't you dare."

"Nah, I won't."

"Good. Anyway, you're coming to Scotland Yard with me now. Lestrade knows you're coming."

"Oh okay. Cool."

With that, they made their way there. Evanna was almost starting to get used to all the rushing around. She had no idea what this case even was, until Sherlock explained it all in detail. It was a triple murder which he was worryingly excited about. She didn't understand most of it; not because she wasn't intelligent, because she was. It was mostly because Sherlock was speaking _so _fast and halfway through she just switched off and watched him.

Sherlock rushed around Scotland Yard with the excuse that Evanna helped him think until there was a point when all they could do was wait. Everyone got tired of Sherlock's boredom and John decided taking Sherlock home was the best choice as apparently, him sleep deprived was something no one could stand.

* * *

**Whaaaay look who updated! I'm sorry this was bad, I always feel really bad whenever I update because you guys are amazing and deserve more. Like some of you guys are so sweet with your little reviews aw I love you guys. Like really I just sort of go all blushy and stare at the screen like :3 for ages and then my family is like what's up and I just giggle and say "NOTHING" and then go upstairs and bury my face in my pillow and squeal with joy. You guys are lovely and it really motivates me, please keep it up! I'm sorry that this chapter wasn't very good, the next one will have fluffiness and hopefully Evanna will meet Sgt Donovan and Anderson, I'm not sure yet because there's two routes I can take it down but either way there will be fluff and some John and Evanna bonding too. I've got a week off now as well so I PROMISE I won't take as long this time! I'm not going to promise updates every week because that's not fair and I'll break it but I'll make it an aim. *hugs you all* Also, cheers to my bro Elisa for reading this over for me.**


	11. Chapter 11 - Serious Pillowcases

The night was growing old and John's patience was wearing thin as Sherlock rushed around, on the brink of losing it. He took a deep sigh and stood up.

"Well I'm going to bed," He concluded, looking at Sherlock. "You should too."

"No. Staying awake until news."

"There won't be any news until midday at the earliest and besides, it's unfair keeping Evanna up."

Evanna looked up hearing her name. "I... I'm fine, by the way."

"Sherlock I am not putting up with you when you don't sleep again."

"I don't need sleep."

"Well, last time you passed out _on top_ of a cab and I had to pull you inside so I guess you do."

Soon both Sherlock and Evanna got changed and she suddenly felt paranoid. Would it be worth taking her makeup off? She didn't really want to be seen without it; as a one off she decided to keep it on and then take it off only to reapply it the next morning. Keeping in mind what he'd said earlier about her smelling nice she subtly sprayed herself with perfume too.

Sherlock returned in his pyjamas, which was a strange sight. Usually he was smartly dressed and seeing him like this was almost laughable. He still looked attractive though and Evanna felt like it was unfair.

"This is the second time I'm staying over here," Evanna smirked, looking around. "Bit of a different context isn't it?"

"I heard you crying yourself to sleep last time." Sherlock looked over, and then down at his feet. "Sorry."

"It's fine."

"No it's not."

She sighed deeply. "Can we not do this?"

"Sorry. And I'm just double checking... you're not... expecting anything tonight, are you?"

"Um, no."

"Good, John thought that inviting you over to stay the night must lead you to think that we are going to engage in some form of intercourse."

"Oh, no, I don't really... yeah. Couldn't you tell that anyway?"

"John claims to know more about women than I do."

"Fair enough."

"Do you want to get into bed then?"

"Okay. It's a bit early, but okay."

"I doubt you'll get much sleep anyway. Sorry about this."

"I really don't mind."

"I know, just being polite."

"Are you a gentleman now?"

"Indeed." He lifted up the duvet for her and she climbed in, before he slid in from the other side. Sherlock kissed her on the forehead before rolling over and they lay with their backs nearly touching each other. "Try not to make too much noise."

"Why would I make noise?"

"Snoring, nightmares, the usual."

Evanna laughed. "I can reassure you I only snore when I've got a cold, and I probably won't have nightmares."

"Good. Sorry if I wake you up I'm going to try and think as well. Just in case anything hits me."

"It's fine."

"Don't get makeup all over my pillow cases either, I won't be happy."

"I won't. Hairspray."

"What?"

"Hairspray, you hairspray your face and it stops your makeup from coming off."

"Oh. Thanks for the tip."

"You're welcome."

"I think I'd have to break up with you if you ruined my pillows."

"Pillows are serious business for me too."

"This is quite nice actually."

"What is?"

"Sharing a bed with you." He shuffled backwards into her so their spines touched. "You're warm."

"Thank you?"

"You're welcome. It's like having a personal hot water bottle who is also great to help me think."

"I do pride myself in my body heat."

"You should."

There was silence for a few minutes and they both lay still. Sherlock's brain couldn't quite think straight and he broke the silence.

"Sorry to be a bother, but-"

"-no really it's fine. I was waiting for you to say something I was starting to feel awkward."

"Would you mind if I..."

"If you..."

"Held you?" He started to get a bit nervous. "Just to, just to see if that helps me think or anything, if you don't mind... well you don't mind but I'm trying to be polite I'm being a gentleman this is boring you have no say in the matter I do what I want I am superior here and I am going to hold you now."

"Ookay then."

Sherlock moved over and enveloped his arms around her. She felt warm and he rather liked it, though he wouldn't admit it. He held her closer and smirked to himself.

If anything, it would be a distraction but Evanna didn't need to know that.

* * *

**Sorry if you were expecting something decent. I'm working on the next chapter and I'm not sure when I'll get round to finishing it and because I love you guys more than most people love their families I felt like you deserved and update, so there you go, something short and fluffy to keep you going until I next update. Though it seems like a filler there was a little thing in there that might come back later in the story so I guess leaving this part out would end up being confusing. It was a bit OOC but oh well. Be grateful! I'll try and finish the next chapter though I mean apart from wandering around the house like a burrito I don't really do much. I really am going to try and update more, pinky promise. I love you guys, MASSIVE SHOUTOUT to AlfieTimewolf, like really I had 36 minutes to wait for a bus and I was having a really rough day and then I read your review and I went all smiley and shit. Thank you so much, you have no idea how much it meant to me! And to the rest of you too! Reviews would be nice even though this wasn't really a chapter just a filler involving cuddles but yanno, I like to see if it's still generating interest. I'm gonna shut up and drink some more coffee now, I'll hopefully see you guys soon.**


	12. Chapter 12 - Mornings

Evanna woke up to something hard hitting her in the face, followed by a low familiar voice calling her name.

"Evanna, Evanna wake up." Sherlock hit her lightly again.

"What even- Sherlock what are you doing?" She tried to focus her eyes on what was hitting her, but only saw his eyes glowing above. She looked around. "Is that my guitar? What are you doing with my guitar?"

"I'm waking you up. Watching you sleep got boring."

"Y-You watched me sleep?"

"For a while, yes. You looked peaceful."

"Because that's not creepy in the slightest, Edward Cullen."

"...who?"

"Nevermind. Anyway, why- what even? It's too early in the morning for this."

"No, it's seven o'clock. I made sure to wake you up at the end of a sleep cycle." He smiled. "I was considerate."

"Very gentlemanly, now why are you waking me up?"

"I need you to compose with me."

"I didn't bring my guitar."

Sherlock held it up. "I got a cab to your flat."

"What time was this exactly?"

"Approximately 5.45 am. I put your keys back in your pocket though. See, I was being considerate."

"You're still in your pyjamas. "

"Oh." He looked down at his dressing gown. "I am."

"You got a cab in your pyjamas?"

"...I suppose I did. Now come and play with me."

There was absolutely no point in arguing so she followed him through to the living room. Sherlock was in one of his needy five year old moods and the bad side of that was never pleasant. They played together for ten minutes or so, before a disgruntled John wandered in.

"Is there a problem?" Sherlock asked obliviously.

John sighed deeply. "Well, it's a bit early."

"That's not my problem."

"Any efforts to just... keep it down a little would be much appreciated."

"We're composing."

"Composing? Now?"

"To be fair it's not really composing." Evanna shrugged. "At the moment it's just mindless jamming... in our pyjamas." She sat upright with a jolt. "PYJAMMING!"

Sherlock smirked. He didn't find the joke particually funny, he was more happy that Evanna was. That she actually took pride in the terrible play on words. It was certainly a start. He spoke to John "I need to think if I'm going to solve this, I told you, and I'm not willing to sacrifice Evanna for it so it's only fair that I let her get involved. The best of both worlds as you might say. And you should feel privileged to hear us anyway, Evanna's guitar sounds brilliant."

"Aw, thanks Sherlock. The violin's really harmonic, you have an odd way you go about playing but it's really good."

"Thank you."

"Are you two quite done?" John snapped. "I'm sure I'd be able to appreciate it more if it was a bit quieter."

"We'd appreciate you more if you were a bit quieter."

"I'm not going to win this argument am I?" He took a deep sigh.

Sherlock shook his head. "Because we're right."

"No," Evanna argued. "_you're_ right don't make me pick sides here."

"You kept referring to us as we though even though it wasn't even your idea and you just admitted I was right of course you're on my side."

"Sherlock, don't make me-"

"-and you think I look sexy in my pyjamas."

"You do."

"You don't look too bad yourself."

John rolled his eyes. "Yes, stop with the constant sexual tension already, I-"

"-there's no sexual tension John."

"Yeah, unless you mean between me and my guitar." Evanna stroked the neck mock-sensually. "I could play it all night... okay I'm sorry. You know what he's like. He'll get bored soon, or Lestrade will call, you'll see. Just bear with it."

"Fine... just _try_ keep it down a bit, okay? I'll leave you to your... pyjamming now."

"See it's catching on, the best pun of the 21st century." She nodded. "Remember where it started."

* * *

The end of the day wandered in and Evanna was taken home.

The lights were switched off and the moonlight shone through the windows and bounced slightly off objects around the room. Sherlock observed.

"You should have drawn the curtains before you left." He said quietly.

Evanna's hands found the light switch and the flat was lit up. "Meh." She started to go around lately taking in his suggestion. "That was fun."

"It was, wasn't it? I should take you on more cases. Thank you for helping."

"I didn't really help that much though."

"You did actually."

"I felt a bit annoying at points."

"You could never be annoying."

Evanna turned around to look at him and he smiled thinly, like he'd meant what he just said. Sherlock took a step in her direction.

"Anyway, since you've seen almost every aspect of my life now it's only fair you show me the same."

"You really want to hear those pieces don't you!?"

"I wasn't referring to that though that would be nice too."

"Pfft. How about nooooo." She rolled her eyes and walked so she stood in front of him. "What were you referring to then?"

"You know my job, my friends-"

"-that's not that hard though there aren't many." Evanna giggled. "I'm sorry. Carry on."

"There's still parts of you I haven't seen and I don't like that."

"Hmm. Either that or you prefer being the mysterious one."

"Maybe a bit of that too."

"So what do you want?"

"I'd like to be with you more. See things from your perspective, know your lifestyle inside out."

"I don't really do that much. I doubt it would be interesting."

"You're always interesting. And besides, it's only fair. I'd like to do more things with you, from your side."

"Hmm. What exactly?"

"I was hoping you could just show me your average day tomorrow, since you've more or less seen mine."

"Is that your way of inviting yourself to stay the night?"

"It's my way of inviting myself to stay with you."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm suspicious. But fine."

That night, after unintentionally watching two whole episodes of the Jeremy Kyle show and definitely not smoking, as they were both totally giving that up, Sherlock held her to sleep again. She didn't resist him and she didn't mind and apart from a small comment about how sociopaths aren't usually this cuddly nothing was spoken, it was just him and her. At one point Evanna could feel his heartbeat thudding against her shoulder blade and his breath on her neck as their chests rose and sunk in unison.

As dull as it seemed Sherlock liked it, because he was with her and that was as he discovered one of his favourite places to be.

* * *

"I'm in the mood to buy some CDs." Evanna pursed her lips, before nudging Sherlock. "Coffee would be nice too. We should wander out into the big wide world."

She pulled him out of the flat and they walked together to the centre. It was filled with a dark spectrum of shoppers, and a lot of questions formed ready to run from Sherlock's tongue.

"You come here often don't you?"

"Regularly. CDs."

"You must have favourite spots then, favourite places, favourite routes to take..."

"...favourite people..."

He looked over at her. "People?"

"See that man over there?" Evanna nudged him lightly, staring straight ahead.

The man was sitting there, aggressively strumming at his guitar. Sherlock said strumming... if he didn't know better he would mistake him for attacking the instrument like he intended to break all the strings. He was hooded and curled up under a blanket, his hands were stained and his eyes outlined with folds, a deep colour. He was playing an unrecognisable piece; probably his own drunken composition. Still, though he was scarcely making music it wasn't that bad. It was bearable, more than bearable even.

"Drunk." He murmured, watching the man.

She rolled her eyes. "That's obvious. Everyone knows that."

"He's not homeless. He doesn't accept money either."

"Shoves it straight back at them. He thinks he's an artist."

Sherlock scoffed. "Barely. Honestly surprising the police haven't removed him yet."

"He's not really bothering anyone. He just sits there, like an intoxicated... burrito." Evanna smirked. "All wrapped up... he just plays. And no one complains. No one shuns him - not to his face anyway - no one compliments him either."

"Because no one knows how he'd take it, he's drunk, could be aggressive."

"Exactly. No one, not even the most confident I've seen around here, no one has ever reviewed his playing."

"What's your point?"

"The point is... he's going to carry on playing. And I don't think because he's drunk. Because he is an artist, under this influence anyway. He wants to be noticed. And everyone does notice, just nobody shows it. He'll keep playing until someone does, and not as what he appears to be, as a musician."

"I can't empathise with your fascination."

"Sometimes I see myself in this guy. Because you can be in the middle of the crowd and still go unnoticed. Not because you're no good. It's all to do with what everyone wants to see. They'll walk straight past wordless because everyone would rather look at something else. And you keep trying but it's useless. Everyone already knows what you are, people are too bloody bitter. They may have treated who you used to be like dirt but they still cling onto it." She looked up and sighed. "Am I making any sense?"

"Not really. He's a drunk playing guitar I fail to see how that's in any way inspiring."

"Thought so." Evanna sucked in a breath. "Thought you wouldn't understand, you don't understand these things. Everything has to be black and white with you, you fail to see the colour... search for the colour. Greyscale, that's what it's like with you. Nothing stands out. Nothing shines. You don't want it to. You've got your eyes set on everything being colourless."

"Evanna-"

"-and that's fine." She stepped back, almost smiling. "Really. It's fine. It's just- nevermind. Let's go and get some coffee."

"No, what?"

"I said never mind."

He grabbed her arm as she began to walk and spun her around, looking so deep into her eyes he could burrow holes. "And I asked what."

"I guess you just complain about everything being dull but there's colour everywhere when you think about it. The world isn't drained, there's light everywhere even in the smallest things and you don't even bother looking for it so you don't really have the right to declare all is lost without a search."

"Oh Evanna," He smirked. "Really, I thought you'd know me better."

"I'm confused."

"With my eyes there's only one light I've ever known so far and that's the girl I'm holding onto as we speak." Sherlock gripped onto her tighter, almost as if he was emphasising. "Everything is dull - everything is grey apart from you..." He looked her up and down. "This spectrum, and you shine. Brightly."

"I-I..."

"That's what you need to understand, you are my light now."

"I'm not a very good one."

"Oh, shut up. Every time I see you I ask where you've been all my life."

"I was probably curled up in my flat," She grinned. "You know, writing some songs or something."

"Probably." He cocked his head. "Anyway. Coffee?"

"Coffee." Evanna smiled and took his hand.

* * *

**I have concluded I'm not good at this. I'm not even gonna bother promising anything or apologising, you should be used to my lack up shitty updates now. Sadly I don't know when I'll update either as I'm gonna be away for a bit. However, I DO promise the next update will be genuinely interesting. I think you guys will love it. Cheers to my bud Finn (his full name is Finnyface sssh don't tell anyone) for the phrase "pyjamming" which he did by stealing his boyfriend's ukulele and playing his family a lovely serenade at some ungodly hour. He can't even play ukulele. I think his life is basically a tumblr post. Also I have a present for you guys! I was going to post this when it's more relevant buttfuck it. I wrote one of Evanna's pieces! The title and stuff will be revealed when it's relevant. I just thought I'd give you guys a taster, here's the link, type YouTube dot com first though and then paste this bit: /watch?v=8oyiFd0VaU8 yes I know I really messed up one part but the better recording I did was bad quality and you hear my phone vibrate halfway through it's like " .dudududududu... BRRR. BRR. dudududududu..." yeah. It's a really bad present I know. I should've baked y'all a cake or something. Reviews would be appreciated, you guys are usually so lovely so keep that up and I'll try and write whenever I can! :3**


	13. Chapter 13 - Phone Calls

There was another phone call and Evanna lost it.

She felt like a puppet and her strings were being pulled in all directions apart from up and out of everything. Her knees gave in and she fell to the floor. And despite her best efforts she couldn't help but cry.

Evanna was sick of these phone calls and the guilt they brought with them. The weight of it all made it hard to stand up so she stayed there and hoped for it to end. But it wouldn't, and it wasn't just that either. For as long as she could remember she had felt herself erode from the dark acid eating away at her, starting with her mind and ending with her heart, and the bite marks would cause life to gush from the open wound and she'd be left drained. She'd always been told it would get better, but it never had. Over a decade it had been this way. Was it even worth it anymore?

A man, _a beautiful man_, darted into the path she was mentally walking down as she sat there. Sherlock had been keeping her alive and subconsciously. The guilt returned and along with that the feeling that maybe he'd be the death of her too. She was by no means worthy of him, he couldn't possibly be attached to her. All the feelings she'd ever had towards anyone were unrequited to one extent or another, this couldn't be an exception.

She thought of that thin, creeping smile he gave, his pale eyes lighting up with excitement... and then dying. As his elegant figure slid out of the graveyard gates, his coat swooping and black like everything was supposed to be when you're dead. _No Sherlock, I know you could get over me. Leave me be._

In the end, she'd leave at some point or another. Why not now before anyone began to care too much? _People do care though. _She bit her lip. _Not enough. Like me, like everything else is, not enough._

The pills lying out on the table from earlier made it feel like it was fate. The cure for her previous headache. _And now the cure for me._ She picked herself up like no one else would and walked over to the container. Should she say anything, last words? Or just do it? Should she leave a note of any kind?

There was one person who she felt like she should talk to before she went. And with any luck they wouldn't know what to say to stop her. So Evanna's hand crept like a spider back over to her phone.

* * *

The phone buzzed and Sherlock looked away from his microscope and down at it. Seeing Evanna's name he instantly picked it up. John smirked knowing exactly who it was, as no one else provoked such a reaction in the man.

"How's your little drug doing?" He teased, looking back at his friend just in time to see his half-smile fade and his eyes narrow.

"Not too well. She wants me to call her, to talk."

"Why is that so bad?"

"She's usually quite anxious and avoids phone calls at all costs. It has to be an emergency of some sort."

"And how do you know it's an emergency?"

"Punctuation." He stood up, pushed his chair in and started to pull on his coat before tying his scarf. "I'm going out."

Once he was out on the street, he called her as he started to walk.

* * *

I'm really sorry. Quick chapter because you'll get a long one tomorrow. I think I have a fetish for cliffhangers. That sounded weird, like I sit alone at night and rub suddenly ending pieces of literature over my body. Which I totally don't do. Anyway, yes, proper chapter will come soon. I know this was shit but bear with me okay. Bear. With. Me. Like a koala! I don't know. Reviews would be appreciated pretty pretty please, just to know I've still got readers and all!


	14. Chapter 14 - Bones

"Hello? Evanna?"

"Hi Sherlock." Her voice was raspy sounding. "I need you to help me out here."

"You're crying. Why are you crying? Stop crying."

"I'm sorry."

"For more than one thing, stop it."

"I can't. That's the thing Sherlock... I can't stop anything."

"Oh no, don't go there."

"I'm so sorry..."

"No. Don't. Don't do this. There's a reason for this, tell me it."

Her mouth opened but nothing came out. "I-I... I can't."

"Please."

"I have to do this. It's fate."

"Fate doesn't exist. You're an idiot."

"Exactly."

"I didn't mean it like that... please." He swallowed. "You'll be fine."

"I won't, I won't ever and that's why this is the right thing. I need you to help me out here."

"If you think for one moment that I'd help you to-"

"-no. Just... remember me, okay? Now remember me. Remember when we first met. You knew my name already, I didn't have to be introduced. You knew everything, right?"

"I never know everything about you, you hide things."

"I know... and I'm sorry. I've been hiding things from you... and I'll tell them to you now, because-"

"-no. Tell them and that'll give you another reason to take your life. I don't want to hear it in that case. You're being ridiculous.

"Just... remember before, okay? Remember then, how easy it was to pretend I was nothing but an experiment. It's because I was, wasn't it?"

"No..." Sherlock shook his head. "You're so much more."

"I'm really not. I was the one with the red hair that needed touching up, the secretive one but that was it. Right? And now that girl, that pathetic girl... now she's going to take a load of pills and she'll be dead. Everyone will be happy."

He spoke through grinded teeth. "Don't you _dare_."

"You'll be fine without me, better even." She grimaced. "I was born to die anyway."

"No, life doesn't work like that. I'll be nothing if you go."

"You can delete me. You can forget I existed..."

"I could never do that."

"Promise me you will. If I leave, promise me you won't remember me anymore. Okay? It'll be easy, as easy as it was to remember that. Like I was nothing, I _was_ nothing."

"No. Evanna stop it."

"I'm so sorry..." She sobbed, shaking her head. "I'm doing the right thing. I'm doing the right thing for once."

"You're not!"

"No, I'm sorry I've got to."

"Evanna please just don't do this!"

"This is it Sherlock. This is what was meant to happen."

"No it isn't, now open your door."

"Why?"

"DO AS I SAY... please..."

Evanna put the phone face down, and shakily walked towards the door. Her heart was pounding as she turned the handle. Sherlock stood there, tears in his eyes and a gun pointed straight to the side of his head.

What was more shocking was how upset he looked, he was crying, she'd never seen him look so fragile before. As if this was the side he always chose to hide. It wasn't helping that he brought it out now. And the gun too.

She swallowed and made the most irrelevant comment of the century. "That was quick."

"You go, I go."

"No Sherlock... how... what?"

" I suspected something was wrong. I've been walking here all this time."

"Put the gun down."

"No." He took a deep breath and shook his head. "No, if you're going then I go too."

"That's not fair! I'm not worth it, you can't put your life on mine!"

"I'm doing it right now."

"DON'T YOU GET IT?" Evanna cried, her eyes red and swollen, tears hitting her bare feet beneath. "I WANT TO DIE! WHY CAN'T YOU LET ME BE HAPPY?"

Sherlock put the gun down by his side and rushed towards Evanna, wrapping his arms around her fragile body and she cried onto his shoulder. He shut the door behind them and held her so tight she could barely breathe, and he had to choke back even more tears. And for those few seconds she felt a little safe again. Like she had one reason, at least one, to stay.

He broke loose, putting an arm around her neck and pointing the gun to the side of her head, which was tightly cramped next to his own.

"One bullet. One bullet will take both of us, a gunshot and then it's all over, kill us both in one go is that what you want?"

Evanna whimpered. "No!"

"Do you still want to die? Do you still want to die knowing that I will never stand over your grave because I'll be right next to it? And you won't even feel a thing. We'll both be gone. If it's not now and then later it'll be the same. I can do it just as easily as you."

"Please, stop it"

"DO YOU STILL WANT IT?"

"NO!"

He swallowed and let the gun clatter to the floor. And this time he clung onto her so tightly she could barely breathe, she was barely touching the ground. Sherlock had made her feel so low and all to bounce back the pain she'd inflicted on him for telling him that. He had to make it up to her.

"I didn't mean to scare you so much."

"It was only fair..."

"I'm so sorry for scaring you" he repeated, clutching onto her tightly. "I didn't mean to... I just wanted you to stay, so badly"

"I didn't think anyone cared that much, I didn't think you cared that much, I'm useless"

"Don't say that. Please don't say that."

"I'm sorry..." Evanna cried onto his shoulder and he had to bite his lip to stop him from doing the same, but tears filled up his eyes. "I'm so sorry..."

"I should be saying sorry. I scared you."

"You scared me out of it."

"It's just I could let anyone else... if this was anyone else, I could let it roll over me but..." Sherlock shook his head. "Not you. Not ever you. Just..." His nails sunk into her back a little. "Please don't go. Don't _ever_ go."

"I'll try." They stopped hugging but she let him hold onto her wrists as she nodded slowly. "I'm going to try for you."

"I need you. You're my little drug," He smirked. "Things would be so... different without you. Just please don't go."

"I'm so sorry..."

She fell back into him. He stood there holding onto her as tightly as he could for a while. It reassured him she was still there, she could have not been but she was still there and he could feel her heartbeat against his own and she was alive. Sherlock let her go but put his arms around her waist and kissed her quickly before stroking her hair again. She looked down, before looking back up at him and nodding.

"I'm just going to go and... you know, clean up my eyes and stuff a little. Wait here."

As she wiped underneath her eyes in front of the mirror, Sherlock untied his scarf and unbuttoned his coat, resting them on the chair. He grew a concern towards her well-being and went to see how she was doing. She stared at her reflection blankly, like she was let down or disappointed with it. As a kind surprise he snaked his hands around her waist.

"How do you feel?" He said, resting on her shoulder.

"Can't you work it out?"

"You feel numb."

"And tired. I don't know." She curled her fingers around his. "I'm not really sure what to do now."

"You're scared."

"Terrified."

"Don't be. I'm here." He brushed back her hair and kissed her cheek. "I'm not going now, I'm going to keep you safe. It's the least I can do."

"But... won't John worry? Don't you have to work on a case or something?"

Sherlock let go and looked her deep in the eyes. "I refuse to leave you alone tonight. I don't trust that brain of yours."

"I-I-... thank you."

It was odd to see him act like he cared so much. There was a reason for that; that maybe in the subconscious of his mind he _did_ know exactly what to do. And that he probably did care, enough for all of this and suddenly nothing else mattered, apart from that she was safe. Evanna was safe.

That night they fell asleep together, bodies curled around the other for reassurance they were there and aching. Aching from the pain they'd made it through alive and knowing it would stop soon and things could be good again. And for that night never had two people, who had dubbed themselves unlovable, ever been so loved by one another.

* * *

Sherlock's feelings for Evanna were odd in the sense that whenever he thought he understood them, they took a sudden turn. A jolt to the left or right, or a sudden drop so they fell deeper and he fell deeper. Sometimes even back, restrained, only to dart forward later. That meant he wasn't always sure of them and he didn't really like that. It was terrifying but he wouldn't ever admit it.

It happened in episodes, there would be periods where he could step back and say "yes, this is how I feel about her" and then there would be periods where he would be thrown back in shock, breathily asking "what the hell is this all about." He was in the middle of the current episode of knowledge when a sudden channel change came.

The way it seemed it was almost as if Sherlock was perfectly content watching a little TV screen until John flunked himself down next to him and accidently sat on the remote.

_For God's sake John._ Sherlock had cursed his friend under his breath a whole two weeks after he had departed from the sofa where the conversation happened. It was the evening after the evening where he nearly lost her, and decided that yes, Evanna was brilliant and he cared about her very much. He liked to think he could leave it there.

"So you spent the night yesterday?" John asked casually.

"Yes." He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Why is that necessary to state?"

He shrugged. "I don't know..."

"You felt the urge to question that even though it was obvious that I did spend the night at her flat why was that John."

"Because... well. You know."

"No I don't know."

"Just... good for you Sherlock. Congratulations."

"On what? Spending the night?"

"Yeah. You know."

"No I don't!"

"I wasn't sure if you two were together like that."

"Together like what?"

"Like _that._"

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

Realising Sherlock's status on the situation he took a deep breath and silence filled the air like a heavy fog. He batted it away with his hands with a slightly awkward question, which he couldn't not ask. Considering before Evanna, Sherlock was interested in no one... and now with this, he had to be forgiven for asking.

John licked his lips and looked over at his best friend. "So how is it?"

"How's what?" He looked back.

"The sex."

"The sex?"

"The sex."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Non... existent...?"

"Are you joking?"

"Why would I be joking?"

"Are you serious? How long have you two been dating?"

"Roughly six months."

"And you haven't had sex? I thought you had, you've spent enough time at hers to."

"But we haven't."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"But Evanna... she's..."

"She's what John?"

"Nothing, I mean it's just, if I were dating her... I would have." He quickly realised what he'd just said. "Not that I want to! Or anything, just if I were you... I would."

"Well we haven't."

"So nothing's ever happened? Ever? Don't you do... anything?"

"Would you like some tea John?"

"Seriously. Six months, and you... with your, experimenting..."

"I think you should have tea."

"Seriously, nothing at all?"

Sherlock sighed. "Not exactly. I'll make you some tea."

"You never make me tea, you're either going to drug me or you're avoiding this conversation at all costs."

"Do you want a biscuit too?"

"Thinking about it, I wouldn't be surprised if you'd never kissed."

"Of course we've kissed. You know that."

"Have you done... more than kissing?"

"Thinking about it, I might make myself a coffee."

"Sherlock! I mean, really, you've had to at least..."

"At least what?"

"Gotten... you know."

"There is a time and a place for your fantasies John."

He swept up and walked over to the kitchen. John was still letting it all sink in. He called out.

"You know, you knew everything about all of my girlfriends. You're very protective over Evanna. I mean I know this stuff's pretty private, but in general."

"Evanna's better than all of your girlfriends put together though."

He smiled to himself, and said under his breath "and that's as romantic as Sherlock gets" before raising his voice again. "So I'm guessing you haven't said it yet then?"

"What? I wish you'd stop being so delicate with all of this."

"Sorry, Mr You-Must-Have-Known-He-Was-Going-To-Stab-Your-Daug hter-Due-To-His-Drug-Habits-Fourteen-Years-Ago."

"That was once, and I needed that information quickly. I'd rather that than be incredibly abstract."

"I love you." John said and Sherlock turned around and squinted before realising it wasn't actually directed at him. "You probably haven't said I love you yet then."

"We haven't."

"Well, do you?"

And that was when Sherlock's mind fell apart into fuzzy little pieces.

* * *

The next time he saw her, he was taking her on another case. He'd rushed her out in a hurry and once they reached Scotland Yard, Evanna was nervously tugging at her sleeves and looking around anxiously.

"You look fine." Sherlock looked down at her. "Really."

"Bleh. Are my contacts in okay?"

He looked around her irises but found it hard to focus, so he cupped his hands around her face to see. Just as Lestrade walked in, saw the two of them, and grinned.

"He was just-" Evanna began to explain but she grew apathy knowing that no matter what explanation she gave, internally Lestrade would slowly nod and say "suuuuure."

Later on, he brought it up again with John as they watched the couple disappear into the horizon of a corridor together.

"They've almost started to move in sync, haven't they?" John observed.

"Yeah, nice couple." Lestrade nodded. "I caught them having a bit of a moment earlier."

"They have a lot." He scoffed. "It's hard to believe they haven't..."

His eyes widened. "Really?" John nodded, and he took a few moments to absorb it. "Wow. That's surprising, since I mean if I were Sherlock... not saying I-"

"-yeah, I know, me too."

"And vice versa... not that I- it's just surprising."

"Me too, I mean he- you know, we should really go and check up on that thing again."

"Of course, yeah."

* * *

**Okay the last part of this was pretty fucking odd and I'm sorry for that I'm just an odd person. BUT HEY GUESS WHO FINALLY POSTED A CHAPTER WHEN PROMISED! Oh yes, I'm getting better at this. Not the writing though. That's still pretty shit. The next chapter's gonna be really good for character development though, feelings are decoded, Evanna makes a really big idiot out of herself in front of Sherlock but he still finds her adorable and gaaah. You'll like it, okay? You will. YOU MUST! Reviews would be as fabulous as Sherlock's face. I know you guys are probably like, ooooh Jack's gonna promise us another chapter and then not update for three weeks because she's a cocky cock we should stop being nice but please guys please I'm getting better okay please thank you okay bye **

**P.S. THE EMPTY HEARSE AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH**


	15. Chapter 15 - Madness I

After what John had said, Sherlock had a lot to think about. John had a habit for that. Bringing him down from this tower he'd built out of his knowledge and skill and hidden inside, down to the ground so much lower beneath his usual position. He didn't like it.

Sherlock had to take this all one step at a time whether he liked it or not. Well, he really did care for Evanna. Did that need a label of any sort? Did he even need to show it? They'd gotten to the point where they could communicate without speaking; surely she'd know all this already. But she'd always been special.

It was her and only her who could change him the way she had. Unintentionally, too.

Sooner or later a time came when she changed him again; cracked his shell open and causing all those feelings he had towards her that he'd tried so hard to keep internal to spill out. It was always at times he was afraid of losing her. That might have even been the more worrying concept of it.

He was always sort of isolated, sort of restricted in showing feelings, being caring. That was a fault in his design but Evanna made it work again. He felt like he could allow himself to be like this around her, to show slight empathy, affection. Maybe even _sentiment._

Yes – he'd never been fond of it but he didn't really care anymore as long as he had her – and he was yet to discover if that was as bad as it sounded.

"You look sad." Sherlock had said slowly as he watched her from the other end of the sofa. She shrugged it off. "Talk to me." Evanna cautiously shook her head. "I want to help."

"You can't."

"Let me help you."

"I can't."

"Come over here." He sighed. She shuffled over to him and he kissed her on the cheek.

With her head resting on his shoulder, Sherlock put an arm around her waist and pulled her a little closer to him. Evanna's shirt moved up a little and he felt the uneven parts of her skin, the self inflicted scars across her stomach. His wrist rubbed against them and in fear of hurting her he pulled away a little. Then with only a small look that seemed to give him permission to do so, Sherlock lifted up Evanna's shirt.

The red lines were fairly deep and by no means painless; they must have been done with a small blade and probably in the heat of the moment. Some of them crossed over each other, some didn't and some went down a lot further. Either with a craft knife or a razor, most likely a razor. Suddenly he felt a sinking feeling, that she could do that to herself. That she could destroy herself when to him she wasn't worthy of such a punishment. To him she wasn't worthy of any pain.

And Sherlock remembered then how deeply he cared about Evanna, as he wished none of the scars were there. It was as if he could feel the pain she was or wasn't in.

Sherlock traced his fingers over the small wounds. They stuck out like mountains to him, against her soft pale skin. His hand moved over them as gently as he could, he moved to her waist and then a little lower down. Evanna cringed away and Sherlock removed his hand.

"I didn't mean to- I just wanted to double check how far down they went."

"It's okay..." She bit her lip.

"Week old, aren't they?"

"A week today."

"You forgot to take your medication."

Evanna nodded slowly before Sherlock looked at her face and saw something else there, she looked a little lost. Lost in herself, maybe.

"No, you didn't forget. You purposely didn't take it."

"I guess old habits die hard."

"You were scared, scared of losing yourself. You feel like it's all a part of you and you don't want to lose it." Sherlock concluded before he looked at her, and like anyone else would be she wasn't impressed, she looked a little hurt. He'd only said the truth. Why did he only _ever_ notice this when it was too late? "I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

And then it all came spilling out. Maybe because she said it was fine when it wasn't or maybe it was something about the way she was looking at him that brought it all out but either way – it just happened.

"But it's not fine, you act like you are fine but you've been waiting for someone to see through it and I do. It's not fine. I always end up upsetting you and I don't want to upset you... you're the last person I want to upset. The last person I want to be upset. Because I'm terrified of losing you and I need you Evanna, I need you to come to. I need you to listen and I need you to be here. And it hurts me to think that one day there could be a grave to go to instead, or a broken body."

"There won't be, I'm not going to leave."

"I can tell when you're suicidal. I can see it, you take less care, you act-"

"-Sherlock. I'm not going to do anything okay?"

"Not to yourself but I know for a fact that if a speeding car came at you right now you wouldn't shift. You can't even look me in the eye right now." He snapped. She swallowed. "Sorry. I don't like this... I mean it I really don't."

"I know..."

"You don't, you still don't believe me. You don't believe me and you still think you're worthless."

"I miss being able to lie sometimes."

"Evanna. Please don't be like this."

"I wish it was that easy."

"I know. I know too well. Just... try for me, alright? Try not to make any more scars."

"I'll try."

"Good." He smirked and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her onto his lap. "I refuse to let you stay like this. Being happy suits you better."

"Thank you." Evanna smiled and leant back, resting her head on his shoulder. Slowly he kissed her on the cheek, his lips not leaving her skin for a good ten seconds. And then he just pulled back and stared. She turned her head and stared back. "It's weird when you're like this. Serious and romantic."

"What would you rather I be?"

"Nothing. It's just weird."

"This is weird."

"Is it?"

"To me, caring about someone this much. And you find it weird too."

"Do you know why?"

"Because you promised yourself you'd never let this happen, this... thing we have. You longed for someone but at the same time you didn't, and you decided that you'd never let yourself be this way again." Sherlock looked deeper into her as if he was trying to hide a smile. "So what am I then? To you?"

"You should know that."

"An exception."

"Yes, the first and the last I'm hoping too." She leant in and kissed him quickly. "There. Evidence."

"Hmph."

"Don't hmph me. I know what you're doing and it's not going to work." She leant back and lay on her back.

"I believe I require more evidence."

Sherlock smirked, and he moved so he was hovering over her, one hand cupping over her face and the other resting next to their bodies keeping him up. He kissed her once; then again for longer. His hand moved up her arm and she rested a hand on his neck. The kiss became hungrier, Sherlock's body against hers made her feel like she was wanted. And Evanna's body beneath his made him want her.

Gut feelings told him what to do; he began to kiss her neck, her collarbones, and then he stopped and just looked at her. A slow smile crept onto his face. He propped her upright and sat back down usually next to her.

"That was nice." Sherlock understated. "We should... we should do that again sometime."

"We should. Is it okay if we-"

"-don't go further than that?"

"Not much. Not yet... I'm sorry."

"I wasn't intending to."

"Bad memories and stuff. I'm just not ready."

"I said I wasn't intending to."

"That's good. We're doing pretty well though, I mean, we're how many months in? I usually cock it up, I thought I would've cocked this up by now."

"You haven't."

"Which is great, that's great."

"It most certainly is."

The next morning she was obviously on a high again and Sherlock caught her dancing around by herself thinking no one could see. She was jumping up and down, limbs flailing everywhere to Radiosurgery by New Found Glory. She was singing along too.

"IIIIIIIIiiiiii caN'T GET YOUR FAce OUTOFMYHEAD, IT MAKES MY BRAAAIN HURR- shit." Evanna stopped the music and blushed when she saw him watching. "You said you'd gone!"

He just laughed, because her being embarrassed was almost just as funny as it was. And he couldn't help but find it sort of... well... _cute. _

Over the course of the next month they developed a routine, depending on each other's moods.

"We watch crap TV, we kiss, we make out, we get bored, we watch crap TV." Evanna recited one day. And that was it really.

Only when it sunk in how fixed things were becoming, Sherlock began to find it tedious. It was one morning when he came back home after staying the night he realised it.

Thanks to John. Obviously. _For goodness sake John stop asking questions you're ruining my relationship._

John looked up at his arrival. "Hi Sherlock. How was Evanna's last night?"

* * *

_Evanna's head rested on his chest, as he gently stroked her hair. She shuffled a little and sniffled as they watched Jack say he'd jump with Rose on the small television._

_"Jack's an idiot." Sherlock murmured._

_"You're an idiot."_

_Sherlock looked at her, startled and offended at what she'd just said._

* * *

"Alright." He shrugged his shoulders. "It was fine."

"Anything... anything interesting happen?"

* * *

_"DON'T EXPECT ME NOT TO DEFEND MY FAVOURITE FILM CHARACTERS WITH ALL MY LIFE!" Evanna yelled, clenching her fists as she stood on the other side of the living room._

_"WELL DON'T CALL ME AN IDIOT THEN!" Sherlock shouted in response._

_"UGH..." She rubbed her temples with her fingers. "YOU'RE RIDICULOUS SOMETIMES!"_

_"I'M NOT THE ONE ATTACHED TO FICTIONAL CHARACTERS!"_

* * *

"Not really." He lied, taking the seat opposite him."

"Really? You seem a little tense."

"No, it's nothing."

* * *

_Passionately but still violently, Sherlock grabbed Evanna by the wrists and pushed her up against the wall behind her. She slid her hands up and down his waist as he smashed his lips into hers, pushing his tongue into her mouth with anger. Evanna ran her fingers through his hair and bit his lip, before he kissed her neck and then her lips again, whilst pushing himself against her, moving his hips against hers forcefully._

_"Jesus Christ," Evanna murmured, as he ran his lips along her collarbones. "How did we get from fighting about the Titanic to making out!?"_

_"Don't ask questions" Sherlock replied, before she cupped her hands around his face and returned his kiss feeling as if her heart would combust into flames._

* * *

"Sure?" John asked, clasping his hands. "You can talk to me?"

"Not really anything worth discussing."

* * *

_They sat on opposite ends of the sofa, Sherlock's knees crossed and his hands resting on the ends of them and Evanna in her usual ball, staring into space._

_Sherlock chipped into the silence "I didn't mean to touch your-"_

_"-no." She put her hand out in his direction without even looking, sending him to a grinding halt. "It's fine."_

_"But I really didn't-"_

_"-no. Fine."_

* * *

"If you say so."

"Did you get the milk?"

"Why are you so eager to change the subject, are you sure everything's alright?"

"I'm sure!"

* * *

_Sherlock was sprawled out on the sofa like an upturned spider and she lay on top of him, her head again resting on his chest secretly listening to his heartbeat. One hand was around her, stroking her head tenderly and the other hand was hanging off the edge of the sofa and being inspected by the oversized ginger cat's nose._

_"Why are we so weird," She sighed, without her eyes even shifting from Jeremy Kyle. "Why can't we just be like normal couples and go ice skating together or something?"_

_"Because" He looked at her, hazel eyes glistening in the reflection of the awful show. "Well, I don't think you want me to answer that."_

_"Can we sleep like this?"_

_"Why not."_

* * *

Maybe it wasn't so bad though. It wasn't exactly a boring routine. Saying there was never a dull moment would be lying, but the dull moments – when they rarely existed – were basically something new anyway. He wanted to be tired of it, be frustrated with it but he just couldn't. He hated that he couldn't hate it. Hate _her._

Maybe that was because of that... that one thing...

-no. He couldn't be dumb enough to actually love her. Not that he didn't like her enough to, because he did. Thinking about it she was the only person he'd be willing to fall in love with but no, he could never do that. It was so cliché. It was so pathetic. Humans aren't even designed to love. It's a fault caused by evolution, probably.

He would never, ever, _ever _be that stupid.

But maybe for her.

* * *

**I'M SO SORRY. FOR EVERYTHING. REALLY. Lack of updates, lack of quality... I'm so sorry. I keep on promising to update more and I never do. I'm sorry. There are things in life you learn the hard way and that I am terrible at updates is one of them. That and that Mountain Dew looks like piss when it's not in a bottle. Seriously. The next chapter, okay I promise the next chapter's going to be good. I was going to write it all as one big blob but I didn't because I didn't want to make you guys wait any longer. So I'll ****_try_**** to get that up soon. Ehehe. Get it up. An excuse I have for slow updates is that I'm also working on a Johnlock fic! If you like Johnlock, check that out, should show up on my profile. If you don't that's cool too, you can just keep reading this and being cool and maybe leaving a review and all that jazz? Thanks, I'm as grateful as I am undeserving of your feedback. **

**P.S. I'm sorry I keep on imagining Sherlock bursting into "I Won't Say I'm In Love" with John and Lestrade just oh my god somebody take my brain away from me**


	16. Note - I'll delete afterwards don't fret

Let me open this up by saying I am incredibly sorry from the very moshpit of my shrivelled and dripping black heart, from the depths of my ovaries to the ends of my fingernails. You guys are amazing and you really do not deserve such a shitty writer like me.

_gaaaaah why do people like my writing it's so bad _

I haven't updated in a while because I've got - well I want to say writer's block but it's not. I know what I want to write, I have the ideas in my head but everything that comes out is just absolutely terrible. I can't write anything good - that or I just can't take pride in my work anymore and either way I don't think you lot deserve that.

So there will be updates and I am definitely not ditching this story for a while - but not until I can come out with something I think is good enough for you. I'm not sure how long it will take but hopefully not too long.

I've been stuck in this rut for a while so it's got to end soon, right? It's also just a lack of motivation, partially because I've spent most of the past few weeks wandering around like a decapitated jellyfish with no future in life whatsoever.

Wow this is too much information. I was going to keep this brief.

Anyway, **thank you so much** if you're reading this and if you are genuinely still liking this story. Because I'm not and I pretty much hate everything I create right now.

Hopefully see you soon,

Jack (pikachow) XØ

p.s. if anyone has any tips for getting out of this pit of self hatred then please hit me up


	17. Chapter 16 - Madness II

It was a Tuesday and it wasn't a very good one in Sherlock's books. No cases and John was currently out for lunch with a new girlfriend. It obviously wouldn't last but Sherlock always missed his friend whenever he was away. He was like breathing, something that the usualness of had grown on him like a virus and he took it for granted. Except unlike the ordinary task of inhaling and exhaling - which was quite easy for what it was - Sherlock felt mostly only a little over neutral towards John.

He liked being around him of course, apart from Evanna he was the only person who he could really truly stand for most of the time but it was only when John was away he realised just to what extent it was. That didn't mean he didn't have the same feelings usually, just that he didn't notice them. That couldn't make him any worse of a person, right?

He hadn't spoken to Evanna in two days which was as unnerving as it was calming. Sherlock didn't want to end up a mess around her, he had to be the strong one. That had been settled right from the start.

He longed to see her again or at least just hear her voice but he knew that he'd just have to wait. What for, he wasn't really sure of but he'd know it once he saw it.

John returned in the late afternoon, average as always. Usually this kind of boredom would lead to the corrosion of Sherlock's ever thirsty mind but this whole Evanna ordeal was almost becoming a case itself. Which was actually worrying. He didn't want things to change.

Until he'd worked out exactly what he felt, until he could split apart all of his emotions and set them into labelled compartments and sealing them off he'd refrain from her. It was the only way he could avoid embarrassment. Lord, he hated it.

Obviously he couldn't stop Evanna coming to him and he couldn't bring himself to push her away either. He liked her far too much. Around 10.30PM he received a text message.

**_Help me. EN_**

Sherlock squinted.

**_How? SH_**

**_I'm at a nightclub. EN_**

**_What on earth are you doing at a nightclub? SH_**

**_Friend dragged me. I was hoping to wait until she got too drunk to notice me slip out. She's drinking far too slowly. EN_**

He laughed to himself imagining her sitting awkwardly at a bar and doing her best not to be noticed by anyone. She'd probably look pretty as always, self conscious but she had that annoying habit of being unintentionally gorgeous. Jealousy appeared once he thought of other people looking at her.

It was odd, because whenever he saw anyone else so much as making eye contact every sense in his body would scream "MY EVANNA! MINE! GET YOUR OWN!" but he also wanted people to be jealous of him for having her too. _Yes Anderson. My girlfriend is pretty and amazing and you are an idiot._

**_Sherlock. Help. I'm genuinely terrified. EN_**

**_Or ignore me. That's cool too. EN_**

**_Hey there's this girl across the room who just looked at me. She has pink hair. Rad. EN_**

**_Did I ever tell you I have a bit of a thing for coloured hair on women? EN_**

**_Because I do. EN_**

**_There's a guy who looks a bit like you. EN_**

**_He has a great butt. EN_**

**_Sherlock if you don't reply to me I will make sure to castrate you the next time I see you. EN_**

**_Okay the guy who looks like you is now talking to Shannon. EN_**

**_Shannon has told me to get off my phone. EN_**

**_Your lookalike just winked at me. EN_**

**_Tell him to sod off. SH_**

**_It's okay. Shannon told him I'm taken. She's asked a lot about you, you know. EN_**

**_What did you tell her? SH_**

**_Why don't you come over here and find out yourself? EN_**

**_I would rather eat John. SH_**

**_Do it. EN_**

**_Are you drinking at all? SH_**

**_Yeah Shannon got me something. It's glowing blue and it tastes like perfume so my guess is it's alien blood. EN_**

**_If you sent me a picture I could identify it for you? SH_**

**_Because that wouldn't look weird at all. EN_**

**_I'm just looking out for you. SH_**

**_Arrghdskfghlks. Everything I'm seeing is red. Must be something in this drink. I see bright lights... EN_**

**_You're in a nightclub. SH_**

**_No actually I think I'm having a seizure or something. I'm puking up blood whilst typing this you know. EN_**

**_Are you being sarcastic? SH_**

**_Nope. Oh my God this might be the last thing you ever hear from me. I'm going to die if you don't pull me out of here right now. I see a tunnel! EN_**

**_Evanna. SH_**

**_Tell John he's a really good guy. Feed Barney for me will you? Oh and return Pride and Prejudice to Molly. I thought I'd seen the version with Colin Firth but I hadn't. EN_**

**_Evanna. SH_**

**_I see a parade! I'll miss you Sherlock. Now my time has come. EN_**

**_Evanna. SH_**

**_All because you won't come and save me from this nightclub. I should think of last words. EN_**

**_Maybe you should pretend to take a call from me. SH_**

**_Too late now. I died. Texting you from the grave. EN_**

**_I've missed your sarcasm. SH_**

**_But really are you alright? SH_**

**_Apart from being here and drinking something that looks like it's been ejaculated by a Smurf, yeah, I'm good. EN_**

**_Do you want me to call you so you have an excuse to go outside? SH_**

**_It's strictly no re-entry though. EN_**

**_You could forget. SH_**

**_I could. Call me in a minute or so. Thank you so much. EN_**

After the longest minute of Evanna's life her phone finally rang. She excused herself and as Shannon was too drunk to stop her, she walked out. Sherlock's voice was deep and oddly comforting as per usual.

"Are you outside?"

"Yeah. Thank you so much. I was so uncomfortable. We were going to stay until past midnight as well." She shuddered.

"What are you going to do now?"

"Um, not sure really. I'll get a cab home."

"Good, as long as you're safe. I know what you're like. Putting yourself in danger on purpose."

"Hey, have a bit of trust. Christ it's cold out here. I didn't bring my coat."

"What a shame."

"There are serial killers everywhere."

"This isn't going to work Evanna."

"But it's cooooooold. Cold like the hearts of murderers waiting to strike on this terrible night."

"No."

"Do you want me to get pneumonia?"

"No. Just walking quickly until you get to somewhere where you can hail a cab."

"I don't want to be alone though."

Something in her voice, something in the way she spoke got to him. It was longing, aching – longing and aching for him. He hated her being upset and he just couldn't allow it. He had to be the one to make her happy again. It wasn't allowed to be anyone else. That would go against science, his science anyway.

"Sheeerlocck. Please? You could stay around mine after. We could watch shitty TV and cuddle. Or make out. That would be cool too. Whatever floats your boat. I just don't really fancy being alone tonight, it feels odd. I really want to see you. I hasn't felt right at all without you around. Please. Just for tonight?" Evanna grinned with the hope that he would be able to feel it down the phone. "Because you love me?"

"Fine." He sighed deeply but without meaning; he really did want to see her now. "Just because I love you. Give me the name of the place and I'll get a cab, then we can go back together."

Only once he'd hung up and John asked if he was okay the weight of the conversation hit him and suddenly his heart nearly stopped.

_"Just because I love you."_

It started again but pounded like a drum and the man who was always informed that he had no real emotion needed to sit down as his knees caved in on themselves.

What had he done.

How could he have just blurted that out? Agreed to it, oh God was he even agreeing and to what? What did Evanna think about this? What did she say, what did she mean- oh what did he even mean? He wasn't sure if he actually... you know... _loved_ her and he'd just admitted it anyway.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, this is why I detach myself usually._

He had to think this through. Sherlock had only said that in passing, usually that sort of thing required a gesture or at least better timing, right? She'd provoked it. It obviously wasn't that serious. Maybe he could let it blow over. Maybe they could both let it slide. But what if they couldn't...

Well. He'd just have to assume they could.

_Assume. _Horrible term.

Sherlock needed to just forget it happened, possibly even delete it – no, keep it for a sense of a deadline or motivator – figure out how he felt and tell her in his own time. This was just a small mess up, wasn't it? Just a small mess up. It would be fine, business as usual.

If he _did _love her which he probably didn't because that would be stupid, how could he go about telling her? What would she like him to do, what if she didn't return it, well of course she would but what if she didn't, she'd always been good at keeping her emotions so drawn back he couldn't see them. This was horrible, the unknowing feeling again, he hated it.

Back to the first plan, just take it all one thing at a time. Delete every other possibility. It was the best way to go.

"JOHN I'M GOING OUT."

* * *

Inside of the flat with her, he actually began to feel nervous. Nervous? Sherlock Holmes, nervous? That couldn't be right. He had to be coming down with something. Whenever she smiled, it was beautiful and he could appreciate it but all he could think was_ she knows. She knows and I don't _and it was terrifying. So terrifying in fact, Evanna noticed how on edge he was.

"You okay?" She asked, putting her arms around his neck and he tensed up but it wasn't with discomfort, probably the opposite but that gesture was enough to make his knees almost give in again.

"Fine. Never better." Sherlock smiled thinly.

"You're smiling. Something's wrong."

"I'm fine. Really." He leant in and kissed her steadily on the forehead, though his hands were shaking and fumbling around her waist. At this point he could only control one body part at a time. "

Evanna squinted. "Are you coming down with something? It's so weird when you're not being a dick."

"I'm not sure really. At this point I honestly think I'm going mad."

"I fear you are too but let's be honest, you weren't exactly sane to start with." Quickly she put her lips against his before stepping back. "I showed Shannon a picture of you by the way."

"You what!?"

"She wanted to see you. She said you looked a bit public school."

"What picture did you show her?"

"Pictures, actually. The deerstalker one. She laughed at that."

"It's always that bloody hat."

"It's cute. Oh and then that one of you I took when you weren't looking."

"I don't remember that."

"Well you wouldn't. You weren't looking. You're smiling to yourself, it's nice."

"I don't like the idea of that, or you talking to your friends about me."

"Sorry. Would you rather I didn't?"

"Well... no actually. What did you say?"

"I said that you're oddly beautiful and kind of a dickhead but you're amazing at the same time. That and you really understand me."

"That's true apart from the last part."

"You just called yourself oddly beautiful and amazing."

"You took the wrong part from that."

"I guess I did."

"You confuse me. A lot sometimes."

"Sorry. I'm a bit confused myself though. I thought you knew pretty much everything."

"I should and about you above all. But I don't. I don't know half as much as I'd like to about you and I think I like it that way."

"What, so if I weren't so bloody misleading all the time you wouldn't like me anymore?"

"Possibly. Probably not since it's a part of you."

"Fair enough. But really I don't think I can thank you enough for tonight. I didn't think it was humanely impossible for you to be considerate."

"Well then."

"Thank you."

She made herself tall enough to kiss him and did so. Rather than like their previous quick kiss, they stayed there, noses touching and just with enough sight of each other's eyes to take in the moment. The tension was too much but also too much to break. One of them had to do it but neither of them had the guts.

Evanna would have to. She counted down to herself, five seconds more would take her to a point where she wouldn't be able to stand it.

_One, two, thr-_

Sherlock broke it by taking hold of her hand, clasping his own around it. He kissed her twice before moving closer into her. Hungrily he bit her lip as their bodies were pressed, she ran her fingers through the back of his hair and he stepped back, sitting down on the sofa. She sat on his lap and their hips moved together. Evanna's lips traced over his neck, his collar.

He murmured lightly. "Evanna, stop" She pulled herself back quizzically. "You being remotely intoxicated and me being extremely on edge tells me this isn't such a good idea. I haven't forgotten what you said before about all this, I don't want you to regret anything."

"Wow. You really are coming down with something." Evanna put her hand against his forehead. "Yep, you're decent. Not sure if I like this."

"I've been worried about you. Worried about you being safe. I feel like I take you for granted."

"You do but I've come to terms with that, I guess. I'm used to it anyway."

"Don't go though."

"What, from-"

"-in no way at all, you're staying. With me. For as long as I can bear it."

"Until one of us pushes the other away because of our lack of skill in maintaining relationships."

"And only then. I hope that day never comes."

"Me too. Now since you're obviously sick I'm going to have to cuddle you back to health and force you to sleep on the sofa with me."

* * *

The next morning started with a tired – and slightly hungover from Evanna's end – kiss, followed by Sherlock insisting on making coffee. She leaned on the worktop and talked to him.

"The Smurf semen was more powerful than expected. Ha, take that out of context." Evanna smirked to herself. "I don't feel like I can thank you enough though. I never do."

"It's fine." He slid a mug across the counter to her. "Really."

"Hmm." She took a sip. "You keep on saying that."

"Evanna I love you."

It was that simple. That quick, that easy, just dropped like that. It didn't involve long speeches (did it need them?) and no big gestures, just that. Only because it had spilled out, like it had been boiling inside of him before which it had. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it wasn't.

He couldn't really take it back either way.

She smirked, took another sip of her coffee before replying. "I know."

"You what?"

"I know. I knew it already."

"How?"

"Well you sort of said it last night."

"Did that count?"

"It did."

"Oh."

Nothing was said for a while but then Evanna said something he didn't know he wanted to hear until he did, if that was possible. "I love you too by the way."

"I know."

"Awesome. That's cleared up then." She started to walk out. "I love you, you love me, cool. I'm gonna go get dressed." Evanna stuck her head around the door. "Also you're a pussy for not saying it first."

* * *

**Sup. Thanks for the support about the note I posted, taking that down tomorrow don't worry. I got my motivation back as I had an idea to take this in a different direction** **and it's actually gonna be a lot cooler than I thought. Thank you so much though you guys. I had a big long cry and pulled myself out of this rut and I think that's pretty rad. See this as an inspiration guys. Also I'm gonna try and get back into the swing of things. Come on I wrote all of this from scratch in like two days. I think that's pretty good for me anyway. I spent ages dwelling on this chapter then I was like fuck it, REWRITE! Please review this it would make me so so so sos sososodsodsidsjgkahfzcga happy. You guys are so rad.**


	18. Chapter 17 - Mrs Sherlock Holmes

**Psst. Psst. If you aren't aware of the rules of the game "Get Down Mr President" look it up before you read this because it'll be confusing otherwise. **

* * *

With the new knowledge of his emotions Sherlock felt both relieved and concerned. There had to be a reason why he hadn't been like this before then, shouldn't there? Maybe this wasn't so good after all. He wasn't sure, as his hands moved up and down her waist, hers spread through his hair and his mouth moved over her neck, taking in the scent as he scattered kisses.

He'd just gotten a case which meant he was definitely up for making out on the sofa before John got back, but it also meant he wouldn't see her until after and it was rather complex. Not that he was complaining. Mass kidnapping and the culprit was purposely leaving clues, and the press were already on it, it was the best in months. Evanna told him getting excited about innocent children being held hostage wasn't that good. What wasn't to be excited about?

Thinking it over again Sherlock decided he didn't want to really leave her. Lord knows what she would get up to. And now he had a reason to be protective that he could use as a backup. That being that he loved her. It was still odd. Then he pictured everyone's faces seeing them together and he liked the idea of that. Jealousy seemed to fade then.

"Evanna," He breathed onto her skin. "Please come with me."

"What?"

"Please?" Moving further forward he rested his forehead against hers. "I like having you around."

"I- shit that's John isn't it?" Evanna's eyes widened and she listened out, absorbing the sound of the footsteps. "That's John." Sherlock stood up and straightened his jacket, and Evanna walked over to the window and pretended to look out. John wouldn't suspect a thing.

And he didn't, he was surprised to see her there. "Are you coming as well?"

"Yes." Sherlock answered for her quickly. She exhaled shortly and smirked.

"Hey, I can answer for myself you know."

"Rather you didn't, I'm not really up for your sarcasm. "

Her eyes scrolled around. "Well excuuuuuse me, boss."

"Point proven. She's coming on the case."

Sherlock was surprised again at how Molly and Evanna got on. Molly smiled and Evanna waved and they small talked like they saw each other every day. It was odd but he couldn't complain. He definitely wouldn't prefer the alternative.

She watched in awe as Sherlock made deductions, admiring his intelligence as always. It always made her weak at the knees when he spoke to her fast, explaining something or asking a small favour. Evanna didn't feel present most of the time around him. Just barely dragging behind. He was always ahead and he always had been. The word undeserving felt like an understatement.

To his luck Anderson wasn't around but Sally Donovan was. Sergeant Donovan had taken a disliking to Evanna or more the concept of her. "Anyone dating Sherlock Holmes has to be twice the freak he is."

"Yeah, it's a challenge but I get by." Evanna grinned in reply and to himself Sherlock smiled too. "It comes naturally after a while, the freak business."

She stared in slight disbelief and then looked over at Sherlock. "What did you do? Did you drug her?"

"Don't you have an Anderson to be doing?"

"Or was it you?" She disowned his comment and fought the blood rushing to her cheeks before looking back at Evanna. "Did you stalk him or something? Murder your family?"

Evanna rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't say _murder_... that's a bit of a loose term..."

Sherlock walked over and whispered in her ear. "I lied earlier. I'm always up for your sarcasm."

"Is she going to do anything?" Sally sighed. "Or is she just going to stand there and marvel at you?"

"She can do a lot of things, actually she can help now." He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and shoved it at his girlfriend. "Do the thing Evanna."

"What thing?"

"The thing."

She glanced at the writing. "Coordinates, isn't it?"

"Hmm, close. It's a code of some sort. Any ideas?"

"Maybe coordinates and code, like, a code for coordinates, or coordinates for a code, or..."

"I thought you'd get this. I really did, Evanna, it's right up your street."

"Is it? Because my mind is completely blank right now, all I can see is a lot of numbers."

"_Look harder_."

It came to her like something inside of her suddenly ignited, then combusted. "Time signatures!"

"Yes! Why time signatures, why music..."

"It's not sheet music. It's just a load of time signatures, unless..."

"Unless what?"

"I was thinking, maybe they're time signatures for specific pieces?"

"YES!" He rushed forward, picked her up and spun her around. Once he put her down he instantly tensed up again with more questions. "Specific pieces, it's a little bit random. A lot of pieces have the same time signatures, why these?"

"Maybe it's a specific composer or collection. Maybe that's a clue, something to do with that... I think I've got it!"

"What?"

"Okay right, maybe they're all sold or placed or they're available in one place. It's like a really grim scavenger hunt, this. Think about it, if it was one composer or one book then-"

"-it would be far too easy, you could research it in seconds."

"Exactly, so-"

"-so it's organisation."

"Pieces with those time signatures arranged in that order."

"In a certain place, oh this is great."

"Okay but how the hell do we know where that is?" Sally chipped in. "How can we find that out, out of all the places in the world-"

"-Evanna give me your phone."

For the rest of the night, Sherlock dashed around, Evanna lagged behind and looked up to him and John sighed, licked his lips, and ran after. He had this case, this criminal wrapped around his little finger and it was solved by the crack of dawn. The criminal was arrested and he's done it again. The thrill of cases always wore off quick though and he already seemed short tempered as they left Scotland Yard.

John was in desperate need of sleep, Evanna was quiet so not to aggravate her currently easily aggravated boyfriend. Press was the last thing anyone needed and you guessed it - they were swarming. Sherlock grabbed her hand and pulled her through, ignoring everything around them appearing to think nothing of it. They got back to the flat and Evanna fell asleep with her head on Sherlock's chest, secretly counting his heartbeats until she drifted off.

The next day was almost completely normal apart from when John went to get the milk and happened to thoughtlessly pick up a newspaper.

Sherlock's vision of the television screen showing the terrible television show he was watching _only because that woman with the fringe knew something _was interrupted by something hitting him in the face. Once the object had finished blocking his view he discovered what it was; a rolled up newspaper. Evanna was holding it and she didn't look very impressed. Maybe she mistook him for a fly and she felt let down. Sherlock was confused.

"SHERLOCK!" She shouted, unfolding the newspaper and pressing the front page at him. "LOOK AT THIS!"

"I'm looking at it."

"WHAT IS IT?"

"It's a newspaper."

Evanna sighed. "THE HEADLINE! THE FUCKING HEADLINE!"

"There's no need to curse." He took it out of her hand and read the bold lettering, pursing his lips. "That's odd."

"YOU THINK?"

Right on the front of the issue was a picture of Evanna. He thought it was quite a nice picture; it must've been taken the night before. Her face was lit up by the flash from the camera, her eyes pointing upwards obviously looking at another camera. She was to the side slightly and Sherlock thought it was actually quite flattering. Why did she get to be so photogenic and he had that cursed deerstalker picture haunting him everywhere?

It seemed like the right thing to move on from the portrait and onto the headline. Which was what confused him the most.

"That's very odd."

"READ IT!" She pushed it into him violently, like she was trying to suffocate him with it. "READ IT READ IT READ IT! WHAT DOES IT SAY?"

"EVANNA REMOVE IT FROM MY FACE FIRST!" Sherlock snatched it out of her hands and looked at it again. "I'm reading it."

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT THEY CALLED ME? DO YOU KNOW WHAT I'M REFERRED TO IN THAT BLOODY HEADLINE?" Evanna stormed up and down the room before turning to look at him. "MRS. SHERLOCK. HOLMES!"

"We're not married."

"I know! And that's the thing, that's my name now! Mrs Sherlock Holmes! Your girlfriend!"

"You are my girlfriend."

"Yes, that and myself. I'd rather be Evanna, who just so happens to be Sherlock Holmes' girlfriend than Sherlock Holmes' girlfriend who just so happens to be Evanna!"

"The tabloids disagree."

"Well obviously! This is your fault you know! You held my hand in front of those cameras!"

"Calm down, it could be worse. There could be all sorts of rumours going round."

"Thanks, now I have to worry about rumours! Ugh I hate this so much!"

"What, publicly being with me?"

"No, just having everybody being able to judge us. Judging you."

"Why would they judge me?"

"Because you chose me, you're dating me, out of all people me. People will ask questions, Sherlock."

"What's wrong with me dating you?"

"It's just... I don't know. I'm not good enough."

"Oh shut up."

"I'm not. People won't expect you to be dating someone like me, they'll expect some woman with a degree in cat's eyeballs or something who's actually interesting."

"How could they be more interesting than you?" said Sherlock, before sighing deeply and patting the space next to him indicating his girlfriend should sit there. She obeyed and he looked over at her. "I love you Evanna. I don't see why you're so bothered with people knowing that."

"I love you too, it's just I'm scared of being judged for it, you know? But I guess we shouldn't care. I can be 'Mrs Sherlock Holmes'." She shrugged her shoulders and laughed.

Sherlock was slightly blown away by her as always, and smiled a little. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"_Really?"_

"No fuck this I am not Mrs Sherlock Holmes!" She stood up again. "That's not me!"

"It could be worse. Ask Bachelor John Watson."

"Wow that's rough." Evanna looked over to John, who had looked up when he heard his name.

He nodded a little sadly. "You get used to it."

"That's really nasty though," She walked over and gave his head a quick hug. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Sherlock blushed with jealousy and made a cry for attention. "And I've got that stupid deerstalker hat."

"I think it's cute." She giggled. "You know, you could be mrS SHERLOCK HOLMES."

Evanna threw herself onto the opposite end of the sofa, grabbing a cushion and curling into a tight ball. There was no point in arguing with her, Sherlock knew it. There was also no point in reminding her things could be worse.

"Evanna Holmes."

"What?" She looked up, startled.

"Evanna Holmes, it has a nice ring to it."

John's eyes shot up nervously, almost excitedly.

"No... not now, obviously." Sherlock crossed his legs. "But..."

"But what?"

"In a few years or so, if things are still the way they are, if I did ask you would you take it into consideration?"

"You... you'd take it into consideration?"

"I mean, it would make sense, wouldn't it? To me it does." Sherlock looked her right in the eyes but his own had warmth to them, like they very rarely did. "You're the only person I can think of wanting to spend the rest of my life with. Other than John, of course, but that's different. Me, you, forever. I like that idea."

"That's probably the sweetest thing you've ever said." Evanna chuckled. "You too. I mean, I haven't cocked this relationship up yet and this is a new record for me and yeah, me, you, forever, I like that idea too."

"But then again, marriage is a bit stupid."

"Isn't it?"

"If you want to be with someone, why can't you just... be with them? Why does there have to be forms and formal occasions and such?"

"I have no idea."

"People are so stupid."

"Yep. You're alright though."

"You're not bad yourself."

She smiled and blushed a little, and then there was silence as they both looked at each other. John rolled his eyes.

"Are you two quite done?"

"Sorry." Sherlock looked at John and then back at Evanna. "It would appear I'm having a bigger influence on you than I thought, anyway."

"You are?"

"When you deduced everything about the sheet music, that was... nice."

John smirked to himelf as he listened in. He _knew_ Sherlock meant sexy, not nice. He always knew he liked it when she was clever.

"All previous knowledge, I picked up all of my music theory in my school orchestra days."

Suddenly she became distant, a memory raised like smoke by the fume of the sentence. Sherlock knew it was best to leave her and so he did. John didn't know any better, and after she'd been quiet the whole afternoon when he found her silently looking out of the window he had to question it.

"Are you okay?"

She looked up from her apparent daze. "Me? Yeah I'm fine."

"Sure? You seem a bit sad."

"Oh, just feeling a bit sentimental, suppose."

"I never knew you played in an orchestra." He replaced his stance and cocked his head, because he genuinely was interested. There was always more to learn with her and he wondered if even Sherlock knew it all.

"In secondary school. Years ago. I feel old now."

"You're younger than me, what did you play?"

"Guitar."

John chuckled. "I didn't think that was possible."

"I was a unique selling point."

"So you're missing it? School days?"

"Even though it's decades ago, yes. The days when it all seemed easy, even though it wasn't, you know?"

"I know."

"Still," She continued. "It's just fond memories. Did I ever tell you I used to have lilac hair?"

"You did not."

"Because that happened. I used to be the genius. Everyone would be stuck and I'd just make a suggestion and everyone would be like, wow why didn't we think of that. Sorry if I'm boring you."

"No it's fine, I understand it. It's nice that you have stuff like this to look back on. Sherlock said you were always a bit of a misfit, you had quite a negative school experience."

"We all were, with a guitarist the orchestra itself was a misfit. We never spoke outside of it too. Times together were the best though. I remember rehearsals were mostly spent chatting with the conductor and playing get down Mr President."

"Oh, we used to play that."

"It's good fun. I miss that."

"I miss it too. Still, memories are nice."

"Good ones are."

John suddenly longed to know what bad memories Evanna could have, maybe things that triggered her ways now. Maybe it was bullying, maybe it was something else later on in life. She seemed like she was already broken and as he considered her a friend now, he was glad she had someone to fix her. If Sherlock even knew how. It was logical and terrifying to assume he didn't.

Sherlock appeared out of apparently nowhere and looked back and forth at them both. "You've been talking."

"People do that." Evanna smirked.

The vine of silence bound them. Suddenly John was struck with an idea that could help her sentimental feelings - maybe even relive some memories and make a new one, in this life.

He grinned and held his hand up to his left ear, as if he was getting a message through. She saw him doing it and started to smile, before doing the same. A single look was exchanged between them and they looked at Sherlock, who by now was confused.

They both grinned more and hurled themselves at him. They tackled him and pinned him to the floor whilst yelling "GET DOWN MR PRESIDENT!"

The two ended up in complete hysterics, whilst Sherlock was on the verge of being crushed and not looking very amused whatsoever.

"I don't know what you're doing but I don't like it."

-

It was barely still night and the air was thick. Whatever light the moon still brought to Baker Street shined and turned droplets of water into glistening diamonds. As if it were a poet or the poet type with a strung urge to romanticise the early morning which was frankly, dull. There was nothing to tell about it. The closest thing to adventure that night was the darkness which spread across the sky like an opaque ink. Some would say it felt like it could swallow you. Others would simply say it was just oddly dull.

Typically, it was the one time John could get Sherlock to sleep he had to disrupt it. He gently shook his shoulder until the detective's eyes shot open instantly deducing why John was in his room.

"What happened? Why is Lestrade calling now, do we have a case?"

"No, it's important though. He needs to tell you some details."

"About what?"

He took a shaking breath. "Evanna's gone missing."

* * *

**I feel like you guys are used to my shitty updates by now. Reviews would be amazing. Also I'm not going to delete the note because I wanna keep the reviews for it. That cool? That be cool bro. Awesome. Yeah reviews would be great, I've already started the second part to this so hopefully your wait won't be too long next time!**


	19. Chapter 18 - Drowning Lessons

It was so petty that a simple sentence caused such a reaction. To Sherlock who was always good at containing his emotions. Maybe he'd been taking her for granted like he did with everything, simply because his arrogance mislead him to thinking he had the right to. Nothing would ever be taken. He wouldn't let it. And maybe he couldn't let it, and he wouldn't this time. Evanna needed saving. Sherlock could do that easily, couldn't he? It didn't matter what the situation was. He'd always come that was set in stone, somewhere in his subconscious.

"Hand me the phone." He swallowed barely through his thickening throat. _Pull yourself together she'll be fine._

John nodded and handed it over silently. Realising he wanted to speak to Lestrade without the interruption of John's breathing he slowly walked through the living room and stared out of the window, into the fog. He decided that Sherlock obviously hadn't taken into consideration yet that he could be upset by the news too.

The flat was a little colder than anticipated and he crossed his arms, pulling his sleeves over his hands. He hadn't been awake and there in the flat for a long time and it felt surreal. As if he could go back to bed and everything would go back to normal. Then nothing ever was. He shivered and looked around, trying to hold the lump rising in his throat back. When Sherlock came in fully dressed to announce they were going out to find her John's reply was hoarse.

Outside, the air was even cooler and so was the journey in Lestrade's car. He seemed anxious, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel while he waited at turnings. Sherlock wanted to tell him to skip the lights, drive faster but he didn't really feel like talking. As much as it irked him he just didn't say a word. Tiredness hung over the other men and Sherlock was lucky he didn't experience it. He'd probably need the energy.

He'd need everything for Evanna.

* * *

_I can't see anything._

Blackness span around her in an endless circle. Invisible snares wound around her limbs and all moment was slow, dragging on like it was an infinity, one where she couldn't end up anywhere after all.

_I can't breathe._

Her lungs wouldn't fill and wouldn't empty as if they were paralysed. She tried to, and she kept on trying to move but it was too slow.

_I'm dying._

Realising her mortality only in that second she felt incredibly feeble. After all those attempts to force her time upon her before, now when she wanted to live she couldn't.

_Why am I not dead?_

Her eyes shut. It didn't make a difference anyway.

_I'd rather just-_

A pain tugged at her scalp and if she had the strength to yelp with pain, she would have. Spluttering she reached the surface of the lake and even the freezing water seemed warmer than the cold hands holding her. Evanna's breaths were sharp, staggered. Third time lucky, they'd said to her before they pushed her under.

A husky voice spoke, the same who proposed drowning her. "Guess we'll 'ave to try one more time. Unless you wanta tell us the truth?"

Even if she wanted to, she couldn't speak. The hands around her tightened.

"Last time then. Any last words, girl?"

She didn't want to die. For the first time in years she didn't want to die. If you took her months ago she wouldn't have resisted, probably fallen back into this life in front of her first too. Before Sherlock. Before Sherlock she didn't feel like she had anything to stay around for.

Oh God, it was pathetic. Nobody's life should evolve around something as fragile and changing as emotions for somebody else. No one should have so much doubt in themselves they placed everyone ounce of hope in someone else. She remembered why she'd distanced herself from relationships for so long. Sherlock made her forget about her reasons. But then even he didn't know everything.

But maybe it was her life now. She had John, loyal faithful and balanced John who was always there as well. And Molly, to text funny cat pictures with at midnight. She had Sherlock to run to.

And she'd always run to Sherlock.

* * *

Her throat was dry like sand as she kept running. Determination seemed to overcome everything and it must have been a lot because at the same time, she was terrified. Every movement shook like an earthquake, every sound felt like a gunshot. Every thought led to strong pessimism. It was likely she wouldn't make it but she could try.

All she could remember from that specific moment was just running, only running and pain everywhere. It felt like she was on fire. She was cold, but bursting into flames on the inside sparked by the light of the alternate ending. Up until she heard the call of her name in the deep, deep voice she knew so well.

"Sherlock?" She looked around but kept running – if she was still being chased or not was unknown and she couldn't take chances. Evanna needed him more than anything. "Sherlock!"

He called her name again. A bolt of fear shot down Evanna's spine that she might never find him, that it was in her head and she was fading. She had to keep running. So she did.

She felt heavy and felt a pair of arms catch her. She'd ran straight into them but they were welcoming, they wanted to see her. It wasn't Sherlock to her disappointment, they felt different, warmer – John.

"Oh thank God." He murmured, stroking her hair. "We were so worried."

"We?" Evanna stepped back still shaking.

"Sherlock sent me off to find you. He wanted to make sure they were arrested first, so you weren't in danger anymore. We tracked you with your phone."

"So- he knows about..."

"No, we don't know-" John swallowed. "Who were they? What did they want with you?"

"It's a l-long story. I-I don't t-think I can tell you."

"You're soaked. They tried to drown you?"

She nodded slowly. "I'll be- I'll be fine though."

"No you won't- take my coat for now, we might need to call an ambulance." He took off his jacket and shrugged it around her shoulders. She wanted to resist but she didn't feel strong enough. "Running in a state like yours isn't the best idea."

"I'll be fine, I s-said I'll be fine. I just need to see Sherlock."

"Why would you want to see me?" A shadow fell from the darkness, suddenly very cold.

Evanna was blinded by Sherlock's emotionless approach. "I-I don't know, really."

"Where's Lestrade?" asked John.

"Arresting. Suspected drug dealers – they _are_ drug dealers, obviously trying to force information out of Evanna. It must of been something she didn't know because if she knew it, she probably wouldn't have forced. Probably something to do with me-"

"-you're wrong." Strength suddenly hit her, mixed with anger at his apparent arrogance. "This isn't about you. Obviously you don't care now knowing it isn't."

"Don't say that."

"As per usual, it's my fault."

"Don't be so childish-"

Her voice raised and shook. "-no, you're the childish one here! You know I kept things hidden from you! I was- I was a really fucked up kid Sherlock... a really messed up adult too, there was a lot of- there was a lot of things I did I shouldn't have and I could never forgive myself for it. Those people, believe it or not... they were my friends once and I knew too much and they wanted to get it all out of me. Now too, only now after seven years, seven years of living in fear, threatening phone calls-"

"-and I had no idea."

"You didn't. You're not as clever as you think."

"You know how to hide from me."

"I hid from everyone- oh it's so ironic that I ran to you just then. I was running- I ran to you Sherlock, thinking you'd be there-"

"-and I was." The ice in his expression thawed. He almost looked scared. "I wanted you to be safe, that's all I ever wanted." He moved forward. "John go ahead" Sherlock called, cradling Evanna's face in his hands and stroking away her new tears. "Don't expect me to come after you too soon, I want to make sure she's safe."

John licked his lips and replaced his footing. "But Sherlock, Lestrade will want to-"

"-GO. Please." He gave him a look he rarely did, of desperation and agony like it tore him apart inside and it was john's responsibility to stop it. "She needs me, I need to be with her."

"Fine. See you... Whenever."

Once he'd walked off, Sherlock let her fall into his arms and he held her like it was his last chance to. Evanna shivered and shook.

"I... I do care. I cared too much, I couldn't think of what might go wrong..."

"I-I... I'm sorry about all of this..."

"It's not your fault. You need to understand this isn't your fault." Sherlock said with comfort and she nodded in agreement, eyes filled with tears. "I thought I'd lost you for a while and I'd never been more scared in my life."

"I...I was scared you weren't going to save me for a few seconds. That I didn't matter enough I-"

"-stop." Sherlock pressed his fingers against her lips, before retracting and clinging onto her hands. "You're freezing."

"They-"

"-I know what they did to you and I don't want to think about it. I need you safe, you're close to losing consciousness. I'm going to take you home, alright?" He pulled her close to her as she nodded again. "You're going to be alright. I won't allow anything else."

Sherlock draped John's jacket tighter around her shoulders before insisting on carrying her back to her flat, and as her eyes drooped shut he held her closer. She never seemed more fragile.

* * *

**As always, sorry for the long wait. And sorry it's so short! I just sort of fall in and out of ruts and write in-between Not satisfied with this at all though. The next chapter is going to be hella crazy and I've already started it yaaay! So at least if I hit a rut AGAIN I'll be able to get back into writing this easier. Feedback would be great though I know this chapter must seem like a really big let down. Also if my calculations are correct I think there's three more chapters of this? And possibly an epilogue! Though it feels a bit pretentious. I'll decide nearer the time, but wow this story has taken me long to finish. Reviews are really my motivation right now so please if you have some time and you actually thought this was decent (which it wasn't) then leave one!**


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